THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


r 


A  NATURALIST'S 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 


BY 

CHARLES    C.    ABBOTT. 


NEW  YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

I,  3,  AND  5  BOND  STREET. 
1885. 


COPYRIGHT,  1884, 
BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

A  WORD  AT  THE  START,  IN  LIEU  OF  a  PREFACE          ....       6 

CHAP.  I. — OUR  MAMMALS  IN  GENERAL 17 

II. — GLIMPSES  OF  WILD-CATS 22 

III.— WICKED  WEASELS 27 

IV.— OUR  COMMON  MINK 33 

V.— THE  SKUNK 38 

VI.— THE  OTTER 46 

VII.— THE  FLYING-SQUIRREL 51 

VIII.— THE  CHIPMUNK 58 

IX.— WILD  MICE 64 

X. — MUSK-RATS  AND  SQUIRRELS  AS  WEATHER-PROPHETS      .         .     73 
XI. — DOES  THE  OPOSSUM  PLAY  "TossuM"?         .        .        .         .84 

XII. — OUR  BIRDS  IN  GENERAL 93 

XIII. — THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS 97 

XIV. — A  SHORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS 124 

XV.— THE  SONGS  OF  BIRDS 136 

XVI. — CHATS  AND  WRENS:   A  SUMMER'S  STUDY       .         .         .         .145 
XVII. — THE  CAROLINA  WREN:   A  YEAR  OF  ITS  LIFE        .         .        .  153 

XVIII. — Do  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE? 159 

XIX. — A  SECLUDED  CORNER 183 

XX. — THREE  BEECHES 191 

XXI. — ROSE-BREASTED  GROSBEAKS 198 

XXII. — EARLY  MORNING 201 

XXIII.— A  WALK  IN  WINTER 209 

XXIV. — FEEDING  HABITS  OF  KINGFISHERS 214 

XXV. — THE  SAW-WHET  AND  OTHER  OWLS 218 

XXVI. — NOTES  ON  OUR  HERONS 226 

XXVII. — NOTES  ON  THE  Wooo-DucK  .  .  237 


M345646 


4  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVIII.— A  SOUTHERLY  RAIN 242 

XXIX. — SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES 250 

XXX. — Uz  GAUNT'S  TALK  ABOUT  TURTLES 276 

XXXI. — SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES          .         .         .         .         .         .252 

XXXII. — Uz  GAUNT'S  SNAKE-STORY 307 

XXXIII. — SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS 312 

XXXIV. — BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES .  3,r>l 

XXXV. — BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES  (CONTINUED)         ....  372 
XXXVI. — BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES  (CONCLUDED)        ....  402 

XXXVII. — TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES 433 

APPENDIX 447 

INDEX.  .  481 


A  WORD  AT  THE   START, 

II*  LIEU   OF  A  PBEFACE. 


I  happen  out  for  a  stroll,  the  difficulty  that 
besets  me  is  not  what  to  seek — for  to  ramble  without  an 
object  is  an  abomination — but  what  to  choose  of  the  end- 
less variety  of  objects  worthy  of  attention.  I  do  not  like 
to  determine  this  after  I  have  started,  but  prefer  saying 
to  myself,  "  I  will  watch  the  birds  to-day,"  or,  "  I  will 
hunt  up  the  meadow-mice."  To  do  this,  at  once  gives 
an  additional  interest  to  a  contemplated  ramble ;  and, 
in  all  my  experience,  I  have  never  yet  failed  to  find  some 
trace,  at  least,  of  that  object  to  observe  which  I  took 
the  walk. 

Avoid  the  highways  when  you  take  a  walk.  Even  if 
well  shaded,  they  are  abandoned  now  to  the  pestiferous 
English  sparrows ;  and  if  you  are  really  intent  on  a  good 
tramp  of  a  few  miles,  do  not  turn  aside  for  a  stretch  of 
swamp.  If  you  have  any  fear  of  wet  feet,  be  properly 
shod  before  starting.  It  too  often  happens  that  the 
sights  best  worth  seeing  come  to  you  when  in  a  bit  of 
wet  meadow.  The  swamp-sparrows,  that  are  such  sweet 
songsters ;  the  marsh-wrens  and  the  king-rails  and  soras 
will  not  come  to  the  dry  ground  at  the  edge  of  the  mead- 


6  A    WORD  AT  THE  START. 

ow  and  sing  and  show  themselves  for  your  benefit.  If 
you  want  to  enjoy  them,  you  must  go  to  their  haunts ; 
and  once  there,  if  you  are  really  fond  of  birds,  you  will 
never  regret  it.  There  are  neglected,  tangled,  briery 
nooks  in  every  neighborhood  that  will  repay  frequent 
visits.  There  some  of  the  best  bird-music  is  to  be  heard. 
In  an  old  field  I  know  of,  too  barren  to  be  worth  cultivat- 
ing, and  unpleasantly  strong  with  the  odors  of  Jamestown 
weed,  there  is  every  summer  a  whole  colony  of  Carolina 
wrens,  and  their  songs  are  not  excelled  by  any  of  our 
birds,  except  certain  thrushes  and  the  rose-breasted  gros- 
beak. In  this  same  field,  too,  I  am  sure  of  finding  scores 
of  garter-snakes,  and  the  pretty  creatures  add  a  charm  to 
the  place.  Finally,  nowhere  else  are  there  so  many 
gorgeously-colored  dragon-flies  as  about  this  same  neg- 
lected, weed  -  grown  field.  By  very  many,  walks  are 
thought  to  be  enjoyable  only  in  what  is  commonly  called 
pleasant  weather.  What  constitutes  a  pleasant  day,  as 
distinguished  from  an  unpleasant  one,  is  not  very  clear. 
If  I  have  seen  something  new,  that  day  is  pleasant,  how- 
ever the  thermometer  registers  or  the  winds  blow.  Surely, 
too,  after  a  month  of  sunny  days,  a  steady,  pouring  rain 
is  delicious,  not  to  look  at  merely,  but  to  be  about  in  it. 
It  is  charm  enough  to  tempt  one  out  to  see  how  the 
birds  and  mice  and  squirrels,  and  the  snakes,  frogs,  and 
insects  pass  their  time  when  it  rains.  The  cunning  you 
will  see  displayed  by  them  will  compensate  for  the  soak- 
ing you  may  get. 

If  the  weather  be  cold,  walk  fast  and  see  fast,  and,  if 
you  have  well-trained  eyes,  no  feeling  of  cold  will  annoy 
you ;  unless,  indeed,  you  are  needlessly  bundled  up,  and 
do  nothing  but  wonder  where  the  thermometer  ranges. 
A  good  rule  for  one  who  walks  in  winter  is,  to  forget 
that  there  are  such  things  as  thermometers,  and  never  to 


A    WORD  AT  THE  START.  '[ 

look  at  one  when  leaving  the  door-step.  Perhaps  it  is 
snowing.  Well,  the  very  creatures  that  the  observant 
walker  loves  to  see  can  not  more  readily  dodge  the  snow- 
storm than  he  can  ;  and  is  it  not  a  sufficient  incentive 
to  learn  what  the  birds  and  mammals  are  about  when 
snowed  up,  to  warrant  a  ramble  over  snow-clad  fields 
and  in  the  leafless  woods  ?  Who  that  has  seen  a  cardinal 
grosbeak  in  the  full  glory  of  his  crimson  dress,  perched 
upon  a  bare  twig,  with  nothing  but  untrodden  snow  for  a 
background,  and  heard  his  cheery  whistle  come  ringing 
through  the  crisp  air,  can  ever  forget  it?  Such  a  sight 
is  not  to  be  witnessed  from  your  sitting-room  windows. 
No,  no,  there  is  reason  for  rambling  at  all  times,  with 
perhaps  one  exception.  In  the  noon  of  midsummer 
days  it  is  proper  to  remain  in-doors  to  rest,  to  keep  cool, 
if  happily  you  can.  Nature  herself,  just  then,  is  taking 
a  nap. 

A  word,  now,  as  to  where  my  home  is,  for  I  have 
never  rambled  elsewhere.  I  will  not  attempt  a  descrip- 
tion ;  for  why,  indeed,  should  I  expose  its  nakedness  ?  It 
came  to  me  not  through  purchase,  but  by  the  accident  of 
birth.  Just  two  centuries  ago,  a  lad  came  from  Notting- 
ham, England,  to  what  was  then  a  mere  ghost  of  a  vil- 
lage, but  is  now  the  present  city  of  Philadelphia.  By 
chance  he  came  into  "  the  Jerseys,"  and,  when  of  age, 
chose,  as  a  site  for  the  home  he  purposed  building,  a 
tract  on  Crosswicks  Creek,  a  navigable  stream  that  enters 
the  Delaware  Eiver  at  Bordentown.  By  trade  a  wheel- 
wright, but  by  choice  a  farmer,  he  throve  well,  and  added 
hundreds  of  acres  to  his  original  purchase ;  and  now, 
two  centuries  later,  I  find  myself  anchored  within  sight 
of  where  my  respected  ancestor  dwelt.  Yes,  and  writ- 
ing these  lines  at  a  curious  old  desk  that  belonged  to  his 


8  A    WORD  AT  THE  START. 

thrifty  son,  who  bought  other  lands,  built  boats,  and  died 
early  of  grief,  because  the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolution 
spoiled  his  plans.  The  predecessors  of  my  ancestors,  as 
possessors  of  the  soil,  merit  a  moment's  attention.  These 
dusky-skinned  natives  were  greatly  attached  to  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  abundance  of  their  handiwork  in  stone 
still  testifies  to  their  prolonged  occupancy  of  the  country. 
Not  only  are  there  hundreds  of  their  relics  on  every  acre, 
but  there  is  also  a  fragmentary  tradition  that,  not  far  from 
my  door-yard,  Oconio-coco-coco-cadgi-cadgi-cadonko  had 
his  wigwam ;  and  not  far  off,  under  an  enormous  white- 
oak,  fought  single-handed  with  the  fiercest  of  cougars, 
long  the  terror  of  the  neighborhood,  and  slew  him  with 
a  flint  knife.  Oconio's  grave  is  supposed  to  be  quite 
near,  but  I  have  never  sought  to  disturb  his  bones, 
much  as  I  would  like  to  have  them,  nor  have  I  even 
looked  for  a  wonderful  stone  pipe  that  was  buried  with 
him.  Perhaps  it  is  all  true.  I  accept  it  as  such,  be- 
cause it  is  pleasant  to  recall  the  story,  as  told  me  nearly 
forty  years  ago.  I  have  often  tried  to  determine,  in 
various  ways,  how  long  these  Indians  roamed  along 
this  terrace  and  over  these  fields  and  meadows,  but 
have  not  as  yet  reached  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  That 
they  were  here  for  a  long  time  can  not  be  questioned, 
and  even  now,  so  long  after  thsir  departure,  the  traces 
of  their  former  presence  lends  a  charm  to  our  quiet 
rambles  ;  for,  whenever  we  happen  upon  bare  ground, 
the  chances  are  that  we  shall  see  an  arrow  -  head,  and 
what  a  wealth  of  pleasing  fancies  even  a  single  arrow- 
head may  bring  up !  How  many  possible  occurrences 
may  be  connected  with  this  bit  of  chipped  jasper  !  So  it 
is,  indeed,  the  country  over ;  and  often  an  unsuspected 
mine  of  pleasure  is  lying  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  those 
who,  walking  abroad,  see  nothing  and  learn  nothing. 


A    WORD  AT  THE  START.  9 

Relic-hunting,  properly  conducted,  is  an  art,  and  had 
better  be  treated  as  such.  It  is  too  laborious  for  quiet 
rambling — as  the  eyes  must  always  be  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

Here,  to-day,  much  as  in  the  olden  time,  are  the  broad 
stretches  of  meadow  that,  skirting  the  Delaware,  are  my 
constant  delight  and  the  scenes  of  my  happiest  days  out- 
of-doors.  Back  from  the  river,  more~than  half  a  mile, 
and  parallel  to  it,  is  the  elevated  plateau  that  extends  east- 
ward and  seaward.  From  the  one  to  the  other  there  is 
no  sloping,  intervening  stretch  of  land,  other  than  the 
meadows.  To  pass  from  the  uplands  to  the  lowlands 
you  must  trip  down  a  steep  descent  of  eighty  feet.  Steep 
as  it  is,  it  is  well  wooded,  and  is  the  "  hill-side  "  of  which 
I  shall  say  much  hereafter.  It  is  a  jolly  place  for  those 
given  to  quiet  rambles.  There  the  earliest  spring  flowers 
are  to  be  found,  and  to  gather  the  earliest  bloom  of  the 
year  is  surely  worth  an  effort.  There,  too,  tarry  the  fore- 
runners of  the  flight  of  summer  songsters  that  gladden  the 
hearts  of  all  who  hear  their  melody,  for  no  subsequent 
songs  are  so  charming  as  the  first  notes  of  the  pioneer 
thrush,  red-wing,  or  oriole. 

My  house  stands  on  the  very  edge  of  this  terrace,  and 
is  so  placed  that  from  my  windows  I  can  see  the  meadows 
below  and  the  river  beyond.  A  substantial  structure  it 
is,  and  it  answered  my  great-grandfathers'  modest  wants 
though  it  does  not  suit  me ;  still  I  am  compensated  for 
what  it  lacks,  in  the  oaks,  beeches,  and  locusts  that  sur- 
round it,  as  it  is  under  them  that  I  live.  So  much,  then, 
as  to  the  place  where  I  live.  Evidently  there  is  not  a 
single  romantic  feature  in  the  neighborhood.  The  first 
Europeans  who  settled  here  were  Quakers,  and  the  plain- 


10  A    WORD  AT  TEE  START. 

ness  of  the  surroundings  doubtless  had  its  influence  in 
deciding  their  choice.  So  strict  were  they,  as  their  meet- 
ing records  show,  that  probably  they  would  have  covered 
up  any  natural  beauty  that  might  have  had  a  tendency 
to  foster  a  poetical  sentiment  among  their  people ;  just 
as  they  desired  their  blooming  maidens,  if  their  color 
was  too  bright,  to  dust  their  cheeks  with  flour  before  at- 
tending meeting.  It  proved  to  be  a  "  concern "  upon 
the  minds  of  the  elders  lest  the  aforesaid  rosy  cheeks 
should  distract  the  attention  of  the  young  men  who 
sat  on  benches  so  placed  that  they  could  look  upon 
the  fair  faces  of  these  maidens.  Even  in  such  prosaic 
times  the  young  men  thought  a  pretty  girl  was  more 
to  be  desired  that  a  drowsy  sermon,  and  their  seniors 
chided  them  for  so  thinking.  The  descendants  of  these 
Quakers,  happily  less  strict,  still  assemble  in  the  old 
meeting-house. 

But  long  years  ago  a  gifted  man,  Archibald,  nephew 
of  William  Bartram,  the  naturalist  and  traveler,  thought 
otherwise  of  this  neighborhood  and  the  young  maidens 
of  his  day.  Of  these  meadows  and  the  wooded  bluff  he 
sang: 

"  Sweet  Nottingham  !  thy  charms  I  prize, 
Where  yonder  hills  abruptly  rise, 
Which  gird  thy  valleys  green ; 
At  dawn,  at  noon,  at  close  of  day, 
Along  these  heights  I  love  to  stray 

And  gaze  upon  the  scene/' 

This,  and  much  more,  he  found  to  say  about  the  spot 
during  his  many  visits,  just  eighty  years  ago — found  it 
to  say,  too,  in  spite  of  living  in  Bartram's  garden  on  the 
Schuylkill,  where  there  was  so  much  to  attract  a  poet  and 
naturalist.  The  matter,  perhaps,  is  explicable  from  the 
fact  that  a  maiden  was  even  more  attractive  than  the 


A    WORD  AT  THE  START.  H 

neighborhood,  and  a  suspicion  crosses  my  mind  that, 
childlike,  he  "made  believe"  to  have  discovered  the 
beauty  of  the  locality,  hoping  it  would  please  the  dark- 
eyed  damsel.  In  this  he  succeeded.  She  was  pleased, 
and  all  would  have  gone  well,  had  he  not,  so  soon  after, 
passed  away.  From  about  this  time  these  meadows  and 
the  bluff  attracted  many  naturalists  of  repute,  then  living 
in  Philadelphia.  Conrad  the  elder,  botanist  and  miner- 
alogist ;  Conrad  the  geologist,  his  son ;  and  Rafinesque, 
Say,  Le  Seure,  Bonaparte,  Wilson,  and  others,  all  rambled 
about  here.  Indeed,  the  names  of  some,  cut  by  them- 
selves, are  still  to  be  deciphered  on  one  of  the  old  beeches 
that  guards  a  famous  spring,  where  they  were  wont  to 
halt  at  noon-time. 

An  instructive,  pleasant,  leisurely  stroll  is  not  un- 
profitable, even  if  the  more  striking  objects  of  natural 
history  are  absent.  It  is  a  sad  error  to  suppose  that  the 
most  familiar  of  our  birds,  to  say  nothing  of  other  forms 
of  life,  both  vegetable  and  animal,  can  ever  be  so  familiar 
that  nothing  further  can  be  learned  by  observing  them. 
There  is  a  percentage  of  probability  so  large  that  we  may 
detect  something  quite  new  to  us  in  the  habits  even  of 
the  little  social  chipping  sparrow,  that  it  is  unwise  even 
for  the  experienced  ornithologist  to  pass  them  by  un- 
heeded. If  it  is  early  summer,  you  may  happen  to  find 
its  nest.  Of  course,  you  know  it  is  always  lined  with 
hair.  Well,  look  at  the  nest  you  have  found,  neverthe- 
less, if  you  can  without  disturbing  it,  and  perhaps  you 
may  find  a  different  material  used.  I  did  once,  and  once 
only,  and  it  was  a  more  pleasant  discovery  than  many  I 
have  since  made.  As  I  continued  my  walk  that  same 
day,  I  pondered  long  on  the  subject  of  variation  in  nest- 
building,  and  found  half  a  dozen  other  nests  of  birds  be- 
fore I  returned.  One  was  a  delicate,  pensile  structure, 


12  A    WORD  AT  THE  START. 

apparently  too  fragile  to  hold  safely  the  three  little  eggs 
it  contained ;  yet  with  them  was  an  egg  of  the  Cowpen 
bird,  larger  than  the  three  others  together. 

If  a  walk  is  taken  for  mental  as  well  as  bodily  exer- 
cise, it  is  most  unwise  to  ignore  familiar  objects,  or  refuse 
to  ramble  because  there  is  nothing  to  see.  When  once 
the  impression  of  nothing  to  see  gains  possession  of  a 
person,  he  is  in  a  bad  way,  as  he  is  deprived  of  one  great 
source  of  pleasure,  and  must  acquire  his  knowledge  at 
second  hand  or  not  at  all.  Not  that  I  think  little  of  a 
book-knowledge  of  Nature,  for  I  read  many  books  with 
delight ;  but  the  best  book  is  that  which  sends  us  out- 
of-doors,  in  search  of  information,  rather  than  to  the 
library. 

Walks  may  be  taken  alone  or  in  company  ;  but  if  you 
go  with  a  companion,  be  sure  he  is  thoroughly  sympa- 
thetic, or  the  ramble  will  be  in  vain.  The  best  company 
are  those  that  live  closest  to  Nature,  and  he  is  wise  who  is 
friendly  with  the  old  trappers  and  fishermen  who  still  lin- 
ger in  every  village.  If  the  rambler  is  young,  and  learn- 
ing Nature's  A,  B,  C's,  an  opportunity  to  question  an  old 
trapper  is  something  to  be  prized.  More  can  be  learned 
of  them,  by  judicious  questions,  than  by  reference  to  a 
cyclopaedia.  Aspiring,  then,  to  be  an  accomplished  ram- 
bler, to  know  how  to  stroll  profitably,  be  not  less  on  the 
lookout  for  those  whose  business  is  with  Nature  than 
for  those  lower  forms  of  intelligence  we  call,  collectivelv, 
animal  life.  A  chance  conversation  discovered  to  me 
one  companion  of  many  of  my  walks.  When  a  mere 
boy,  Uz  Gaunt  lived  in  this  neighborhood,  having  a 
little  cottage  adjoining  my  grandfather's  woods ;  and 
he,  above  all  others,  gave  me  my  first  lesson  in  practical 
zoology. 


A    WORD  AT  THE  START.  13 

When  I  first  met  him  he  was  about  seventy  years  old, 
and  ten  years  later  he  appeared  no  older.  Had  he  not 
been  bent  and  disabled,  finally,  from  severe  rheumatic 
attacks,  I  doubt  if  any  one  could  have  guessed  his  age. 
His  hair  remained  dark  and  thick,  his  forehead  showed 
few  wrinkles,  his  eye  was  as  bright  and  piercing,  at  the 
last,  as  when,  a  score  of  years  ago,  he  would  point  out 
the  green  head  of  a  mallard  in  the  tall  grass  and  bid  me 
shoot.  Often  I  would  fire  on  faith,  not  able  to  detect 
anything  but  the  waving  grass  wherein  he  saw  a  cunning 
mallard  hiding. 

Uz  was  the  happy  owner  of  a  few  acres,  most  of  which 
were  not  arable.  The  five  acres  that  immediately  sur- 
rounded his  house  were  shut  in  from  the  world  by  a 
swampy  tract  that  remained  undisturbed.  Tempting  of- 
fers were  made  for  the  valuable  timber  that  grew  upon 
it.  but  Uz  had  enough  to  meet  his  wants,  and  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  all  who  suggested  his  parting  with  the  trees. 
"  They  were  my  only  companions  when  a  child,"  he  once 
remarked  to  me,  "  and  I  could  not  part  with  them  now. 
I'm  not  chicken-hearted,  that  I  know  of,  but  to  sell  those 
trees  would  be  like  selling  my  own  flesh  and  blood. 
They  are  a  part  of  my  life  now,  and  my  sister  and  I  make 
out  to  live  on  the  little  patches  of  cleared  land  about  the 
house.  No,  so  long  as  I  live  I  want  the  trees  to  keep 
me  company." 

"  Then  it  is  from  the  fact  that  you  played  all  day  un- 
der these  trees  that  you  became  a  naturalist,"  I  suggested 
at  the  time. 

li  Yes,  you  hit  it  there.  Of  course,  I  went  a  bit 
to  school,  and  father  had  two  or  three  books  which 
I  read  in  a  little,  but  my  learnin'  came  from  out- 
doors. Why,  the  birds  seemed  to  know  me  after  a 
while,  and  I  gained  their  good-will  by  lettin'  'em  alone. 


14:  A    WORD  AT  THE  START. 

Hy  eyes  would  be  on  'em  all  day,  but  I  kept  my  bands 
off." 

"  But  you  carried  a  gun  after  a  wbile,"  I  remarked. 

"  Yes,  but  not  for  some  time.  Fatlier  made  me  work 
some,  and  wben  I  did  go  gunnin'  it  was  at  proper  times, 
and  I  didn't  sboot  birds  in  spring  just  to  count  their  tail- 
feathers."  This  was  a  quiet  dig  at  me,  for  Uz  had  but 
little  patience  with  ornithology  as  I  had  attempted  to 
study  it.  The  minutiae  of  color  and  anatomical  structure 
he  gave  the  go-by,  but  knew  the  habits  of  birds  as  I  never 
expect  to. 

In  later  years  Uz  left  to  his  sister  the  care  both  of  his 
house  and  little  farm,  and  was  ever  on  the  alert,  with  gun 
in  hand,  to  secure  what  game  might  be  at  hand.  The 
number  of  rabbits  he  killed  every  autumn  I  dare  not 
mention  ;  and,  in  the  proper  season,  woodcock,  quails, 
and  ducks  daily  rewarded  his  rambles  about  their  haunts. 
As  a  duck-shooter  he  had  no  equal  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  it  was  in  this  sport  that  he  most  delighted.  For 
twenty  years,  during  which  I  knew  him  well  and  saw 
him  often,  his  sole  occupation  was  that  of  a  hunter  and 
trapper,  and,  happily,  he  combined  with  these  all  the  es- 
sential requirements  of  a  practical  naturalist. 

To  him  I  feel  that  I  am  indebted  in  great  part  for  my 
liking  for  the  great  world  of  out-of-doors,  and  for  a  total 
indifference  to  the  artificial,  pent-up  life  of  the  city.  He 
it  was  who  taught  me  how  to  stroll  leisurely  about  when 
I  felt  so  disposed,  and  to  see  a  wealth  of  wonder  every- 
where I  went.  It  is  proper,  therefore,  that  I  should  here 
give  him  the  credit  that  is  his  due ;  and,  in  so  doing, 
point  out  to  others  the  desirability  of  seeking  out  in  their 
respective  neighborhoods  other  Uz  Gaunts,  and  profiting 
by  their  acquaintance.  There  are  few  villages  that  do 
not  contain  some  one  who  is  better  informed  than  his 


A    WORD  AT  THE  START.  15 

fellows  as  to  the  natural  history  of  the  neighborhood ; 
and  it  is  possible  that  what  you  fail  to  discover  during 
your  rambles  will  be  learned  by  applying  to  the  practi- 
cal Uz  Gaunt  of  your  neighborhood.  Such  was  my  ex- 
perience, and,  in  advising  my  readers  to  adopt  a  similar 
coarse,  I  can  only  hope  that  they  may  be  so  fortunate  as 
to  meet  with  one  whose  love  of  Nature  was  as  sincere 
as  was  that  of  my  old  friend  and  teacher;  and,  that 
they  can  the  better  realize  what  manner  of  man  he 
was,  I  have  ventured  to  add  "  specimen  days "  spent 
with  him,  and  record  some  of  his  observations  in  his 
own  words. 

As  a  result  of  many  years  of  rambling  about  home,  I 
have  seen  most  if  not  all  of  the  animals  that  are  now  to  be 
found  here  ;  and,  whenever  I  -saw  any  of  them  under  cir- 
cumstances that  were  of  peculiar  interest,  I  made  a  note 
of  it.  At  various  times,  and  in  various  publications,  as 
"  Hardwicke's  Science  Gossip  "  and  "  Nature  "  (London), 
"  The  American  Naturalist  "  (Philadelphia),  "  Science  " 
(Cambridge),  and  "  The  Popular  Science  Monthly  "  (New 
York),  some  of  these  field-notes  have  already  appeared. 
The  willingness,  on  the  part  of  the  publishers  of  these 
various  serials,  to  have  me  reproduce  them  in  their  pres- 
ent form,  is  here  gratefully  acknowledged. 

Rather  than  mar  the  pages  with  innumerable  brackets, 
inclosing  the  scientific  names  of  the  animals  I  have  had 
occasion  to  mention,  I  have  added  a  complete  list  of  the 
mammals,  birds,  reptiles,  batrachians,  and  fishes  of  Mer- 
cer County,  New  Jersey.  The  common  or  local  names  I 
have  used  in  the  body  of  the  work  are  here  repeated,  with 
the  name  now  adopted  by  the  systematists.  This  list  will 
prove,  I  hope,  of  some  value  to  those  interested  in  the 
subject  of  the  geographical  distribution  of  our  animals ; 
and  will,  at  least,  prevent  any  difficulty  in  properly  iden- 


16  A    WORD  AT  THE  START. 

tifying  any  animal  to  which  I  have  referred  under  its  com- 
mon or  local  name. 

If  these  "  notes,"  the  gatherings  of  many  years,  shall 
serve  to  amuse  or  instruct  my  young  readers,  or  those  of 
maturer  years,  if  any  such  there  be,  then  I  shall  be  quite 
satisfied  with  having  preserved  that  which  is  here  given 
to  the  public. 

C.  C.  A. 

PROSPECT  HILL,  TRENTON,  NEW  JERSEY,  March  1,  1884. 


EAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

OUR    MATVTMAT.S    IN    GENERAL. 

THE  marked  changes  that  have  taken  place  in  the 
surface  of  our  country  since  its  settlement,  more  than 
two  centuries  ago,  have  naturally  had  their  eifect  upon 
the  fauna.  This  is  realized  most  readily  when  we  com- 
pare our  present  meager  list  of  mammals  with  the  goodly 
array  of  "  might ie  beestes "  that  once  roamed  through 
our  primeval  forests.  Even  earlier — in  the  Indian  or  pre- 
historic times — faunal  changes  occurred,  of  even  greater 
magnitude  than  any  that  have  since  taken  place,  for, 
partly  through  climatic  change,  but  more  through  inces- 
sant persecution,  the  moose,  reindeer,  and  bison  had  dis- 
appeared from  New  Jersey,  and  the  mastodon  had  be- 
come extinct,  long  before  the  arrival  of  the  whites. 

The  bear,  elk,  deer,  wolf,  cougar,  and  beaver  still 
remained  in  vast  numbers,  however ;  and,  although  the 
Indians  were  essentially  a  hunting  people,  and  depended 
largely  upon  the  product  of  the  chase,  yet  the  many  ani- 
mals that  were  once  common  here  might  have  held  their 
own,  had  not  the  occupation  of  the  country  by  the 
Swedes,  and  the  consequent  introduction  of  fire-arms  and 


18  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

destruction  of  the  forests,  brought  about  results  that  were 
most  disastrous  to  the  larger  mammals.  It  was  this  latter 
cause,  perhaps,  more  than  all  else,  that  affected  the  larger 
animals  of  New  Jersey,  within  historic  times ;  for,  as  their 
haunts  were  invaded  bj  the  settler,  they  were  driven  first 
to  the  remote  mountain,  forest-clad  swamps,  and  then 
westward,  as  was  the  Indian;  and  the  presence  ever 
afterward  of  the  European  prevented,  in  great  measure, 
their  return  even  to  those  localities  where  a  new  forest- 
growth  replaced  the  old.  Notwithstanding  all  these  ad- 
verse conditions,  the  bear  and  deer  still  linger  within  our 
boundaries,  while  the  wolf  has  only  been  exterminated 
within  fifty  years,  and  the  elk  and  beaver  almost  as  re- 
cently. That  all  the  animals  mentioned  were  once  com- 
mon here  is  proved  by  the  presence  of  their  bones  in 
the  shell-heaps  or  kitchen-middens  of  the  Indians,  and 
also  by  the  accounts  of  the  early  travelers  and  settlers. 
Especially  are  we  indebted  to  Peter  Kalm,  the  Swedish 
naturalist,  for  many  most  interesting  details  of  the  fauna 
of  the  country  as  it  was  a  century  and  a  half  ago ;  and 
it  is  most  instructive  to  compare  his  account  of  the  habits 
of  the  mammals,  that  were  then  found  here,  writh  our 
own  experience  of  the  fauna  that  still  remains  among 
us.  For  instance,  writing  of  New  Jersey,  in  1748,  he 
says: 

"  Bears  are  very  numerous  higher  up  in  the  country, 
and  do  much  mischief.  Mr.  Bartram  told  me  that  when 
a  bear  catches  a  cow,  he  kills  her  in  the  following  man- 
ner :  lie  bites  a  hole  into  the  hide,  and  blows  with  all  his 
power  into  it,  till  the  animal  swells  excessively  and  dies  "  ; 
and  again :  "  They  have  two  varieties  of  wolves  here,  which, 
however,  seem  to  be  of  the  same  species.  .  .  .  All  the  old 
Sioedes  related  that  during  their  childhood,  and  still 
more  at  the  arrival  of  their  fathers,  there  were  excessive 


OUR  MAMMALS  IN  GENERAL.  19 

numbers  of  wolves  in  the  country,  and  that  their  howling 
and  yelping  might  be  heard  all  night.  They  likewise 
frequently  tore  in  pieces  sheep,  hogs,  and  other  young 
and  small  cattle."  But  a  few  years  afterward  they 
seemed  suddenly  to  decrease  in  numbers,  for  in  the  year 
mentioned  Kalm  tells  us  that  "  they  are  now  seldom 
seen,  and  it  is  very  rarely  that  they  commit  any  disorders. 
This  is  attributed  to  the  greater  cultivation  of  the  coun- 
try, and  to  their  being  killed  in  great  numbers.  But 
further  up  the  country  (i.  e.,  up  the  Delaware  Valley), 
where  it  is  not  yet  so  much  inhabited,  they  are  still  very 
abundant." 

Some  of  our  smaller  mammals,  on  the  other  hand,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  benefited  by  the  change  from  a  wild 
to  a  cultivated  country,  as,  for  instance,  the  squirrels,  of 
which  Kalm  says :  "  The  several  sorts  of  squirrels  among 
the  quadrupeds  have  spread  :  for  these  .  .  .  live  chiefly 
upon  maize,  or  at  least  they  are  most  greedy  of  it." 

Speaking  of  one  other  well-known  mammal,  now  no 
longer  found  in  New  Jersey,  the  same  author  writes : 
"  Beavers  were  formerly  abundant  in  New  Sweden " 
(New  Jersey),  "  as  all  the  old  Swedes  here  told  me.  At 
that  time  they  saw  one  bank  after  another  raised  in  the 
rivers  by  beavers.  But  after  the  Europeans  came  over 
in  great  numbers  and  cultivated  the  country  better,  the 
beavers  have  been  partly  killed  and  partly  extirpated, 
and  partly  removed  higher  into  the  country,  where  the 
people  are  not  so  numerous.  Therefore  there  is  but  a 
single  place  in  Pennsylvania  where  beavers  are  to  be  met 
with ;  their  chief  food  is  the  bark  of  the  beaver-tree,  or 
Magnolia  glauca,  which  they  prefer  to  any  other." 

Deprived  of  so  many  of  these  most  interesting  animals, 
it  would  seem  as  if  the  limited  areas  of  woodland  still  re- 
maining were  destitute  of  any  features  of  mammalian  life 


20  E AMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

worthy  our  attention.  This  would  be  true,  if  the  most 
interesting  problems  in  biology  could  be  solved  only 
by  the  study  of  the  habits  of  the  larger  animals ;  but 
if  we  have  not  the  cougar,  we  have  the  lynx;  if  not 
the  elk,  we  have  the  deer ;  and  if  not  the  beaver,  there 
remains  the  musk-rat ;  and  it  is  to  the  study  of  the  habits 
of  such  smaller  creatures  as  have  withstood  the  encroach- 
ment of  man  that  our  attention  will  be  directed,  and 
not  to  the  past,  when  a  larger,  fiercer,  and  more  attractive 
fauna  dwelt  within  our  borders. 

,  In  studying  the  habits  of  the  few  mammals  that  re- 
main in  New  Jersey,  it  would,  indeed,  be  interesting  to 
determine  to  what  extent  their  habits  may  have  changed, 
since  their  environment  has  been  so  greatly  altered  by 
the  destruction  of  forests,  the  drainage  of  swamps,  and 
the  cultivation  of  so  large  a  portion  of  their  former  do- 
main. I  have  already  mentioned  these  changes,  among 
others  even  more  patent,  as  having  aided  in  the  extermi- 
nation of  most  of  our  larger  mammals ;  and  it  remains 
now  to  inquire  how  far  the  smaller  ones  that  are  left 
have  retained  their  old  habits,  and  whether  they  have 
acquired  any  that  are  new.  As  their  altered  surround- 
ings must  surely  have  increased  the  severity  of  that 
struggle  for  existence  that  greets  every  creature  born 
into  the  world,  it  becomes  an  interesting  inquiry  whether 
the  same  causes  have  likewise  increased  their  cunning 
and  quickened  their  wits.  When  we  come  to  consider 
certain  phases  of  bird-life,  we  will  find  that  man's  pres- 
ence has  changed  some  of  their  habits  to  a  marked  degree, 
and  the  same  might  reasonably  be  expected  in  the  case 
of  our  mammals.  I  confess,  however,  that  I  have  been 
able  to  find  but  few  indications  of  such  changes,  and  the 
accounts  of  the  habits  of  the  raccoon,  musk-rat,  and  mink, 
as  detailed  by  Kalm,  seem  to  be  as  applicable  to  these 


OUR  MAMMALS  IN  GENERAL.  21 

animals  to-day  as  when  they  were  written.  Still,  the 
field-notes  as  to  the  habits  of  our  mammals,  in  their  pres- 
ent environment,  are  far  from  being  devoid  of  interest 
and  permanent  value,  and  when  it  is  remembered  that 
traits  that  are  peculiar  to  an  animal  in  one  locality,  may 
not  be  characteristic  of  the  same  animal  elsewhere,  there 
is  but  little  danger  that  the  observations  of  a  naturalist, 
even  of  familiar  objects,  will  prove,  in  all  respects,  a 
twice-told  tale. 


CHAPTER  II. 

GLIMPSES    OF    WILD-CATS. 

To  the  world-wide  traveler,  the  little  stretch  of  mead- 
ows that  intervene  between  my  house  and  the  river  are, 
no  doubt,  exceedingly  tame  and  uninviting;  neverthe- 
less, to  me  they  possess  innumerable  charms ;  and  I  never 
weary  of  looking  at  them  from  the  brow  of  the  terrace 
that  forms  their  eastward  boundary.  To  me,  indeed, 
they  are  as  varied  as  a  checker-board ;  and  a  bird's-eye 
glance  at  them,  such  as  one  gets  from  the  terrace,  sug- 
gests this  comparison.  In  about  equal  proportions  they 
are  separated  by  creeks  and  ditches  into  high  and  dry,  and 
low  and  wet ;  not  divided  into  two  great  parts,  but  rather 
into  a  series  of  equal  parts,  evenly  distributed. 

In  June,  1860,  there  was  a  remarkable  fall  of  rain, 
lasting  from  the  1st  to  the  4th  of  the  month.  The 
rainfall  measured  a  little  more  than  six  inches,  and  as 
the  storm  extended  well  up  the  river,  the  stream  was 
enormously  swollen ;  in  other  words,  we  had  a  summer 
freshet  that  submerged  the  meadows  to  the  depth  of 
from  six  to  ten  feet.  This,  of  course,  upset  the  calcula- 
tions of  the  meadow-haunting  birds,  who  had  either  to  con- 
form to  the  new  order  of  things,  or  else  to  quit  the  neigh- 
borhood. Fortunately,  the  latter  alternative  was  accepted 
by  but  few.  As  a  result,  I  was  astonished  to  find  king- 
rails  and  woodcocks,  and  even  the  timid  least  bittern  in 
the  nearest  high,  dry,  upland  fields,  skulking  among  the 
bushes  that  grew  in  the  angles  of  the  worm-fences.  The 


GLIMPSES  OF  WILD- CATS.  23 

musk-rats  and  otters,  too,  were  drowned  out  and  came  to 
the  slope  of  the  terrace,  seeking  shelter  in  its  wooded 
portions ;  and  the  minks  reveled  in  an  abundance  of 
drowned  nestlings  that  were  floated  to  the  shore.  This 
latter  fact  was  new  to  me,  as  I  had  never  known  minks 
to  eat  of  food  that  they  had  not  captured  and  killed. 
During  this  summer  freshet  the  animal  life  on  the  mead- 
ows was  literally  set  afloat,  and  thus  familiar  animals  were 
placed  in  situations  that  called  for  the  exercise  of  great 
ingenuity.  This,  of  itself,  should  be  enough  to  satisfy 
any  naturalist,  as  it  not  only  offered  a  rare  chance  for  the 
study  of  these  well-known  animals,  under  conditions  that 
were  altogether  new ;  but  the  fauna  of  the  meadows 

O  ? 

was  increased  by  scores  of  animals  that  found  refuge  upon 
the  drift-wood,  and  were  borne  along  by  the  current  until 
meeting  here,  for  the  first  time,  with  open  bottoms  and 
the  river  spread  over  a  wide  expanse  of  country  and  de- 
posited many  of  the  unwilling  travelers.  Among  the 
mammals  that  were  thus  brought  into  the  neighborhood 
— at  least  their  presence  may  be  explained  in  this  way — 
were  several  wild-cats. 

Under  the  circumstances,  it  was  natural  that  I  should 
spend  the  day,  wandering  here  and  there,  upon  these 
flooded  meadows,  and  feasting  my  eyes  on  the  many 
sights  that  were  to  be  seen.  It  was,  for  the  time,  a  first- 
class  menagerie,  better  than  any  museum  or  "  zoo  "  I  had 
ever  visited,  because  more  instructive. 

Night  came  all  too  soon,  but  still  I  lingered,  hoping 
for  further  novelties  to  appear,  nor  was  I  disappointed. 
While  yet  a  little  sunlight  lingered  in  the  west,  my  atten- 
tion was  called  to  a  commotion,  not  far  off,  wherein  both 
beasts  and  birds  were  concerned.  As  I  was  floating  al- 
most aimlessly  in  my  canoe,  I  heard  a  scream  that  was 
quite  strange  to  me,  and,  looking  in  the  direction  from 


24  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

which  the  sound  came,  I  was  astonished  to  see  a  huge 
wild-cat,  or  bay  lynx,  standing  upon  a  floating  log,  with 
its  back  arched  and  hair  standing  straight  up.  In  the 
brush-wood,  that  had  been  drifted  with  the  log,  stood  a 
turkey-buzzard,  evidently  entertaining  no  fear  of  the  cat, 
even  if  it  had  no  designs  upon  it.  A  quarrel  was  going 
on  between  them,  I  supposed,  and  my  only  thought  was 
how  I  might  be  there  to  see.  To  be  sure,  it  was  growing 
dark,  but  this  availed  me  nothing.  I  had  no  screen  on 
the  canoe,  and  indeed  could  only  sit  bolt  upright  in  the 
little  craft.  If  I  went  too  near,  the  buzzard  would  fly ; 
perhaps,  too,  the  cat  would  swim  off,  although  I  had 
doubts  as  to  the  latter  event.  Accepting  matters  as  they 
stood,  I  paddled  to  within  a  dozen  yards,  and  then,  check- 
ing my  course,  kept  the  canoe  in  one  position,  with  as 
little  movement  on  my  part  as  possible,  and  became  a 
silent  spectator.  Of  course,  both  the  cat  and  the  buzzard 
saw  me,  and  glared  at  me  and  at  each  other  alternately  ; 
but  neither  changed  its  position,  except  to  move  its  head. 
There  was  evidently  a  mystery  about  it.  Things  were 
not  as  they  seemed.  These  creatures,  it  was  now  appar- 
ent, were; not  there  of  their  own  choice.  Satisfied  of 
this,  I  drew  a  little  nearer.  At  this,  the  buzzard  raised 
its  wings,  solemnly  shook  its  head,  and  expressed  its  dis- 
approbation by  ejecting  a  semi-fluid  mass  of  half-digested 
matter,  the  odors  from  which  were  not  suggestive  of 
"  Araby  the  blest."  Still,  the  buzzard  remained  at  his 
post,  and  I  at  mine.  As  to  the  cat,  it  held  this  act  of  the 
buzzard  to  be  adding  insult  to  injury,  and  struggled  terri- 
bly to  be  free ;  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  I  saw  that  it 
was  a  prisoner.  One  of  its  fore-feet  was  securely  held  in 
the  jaws  of  a  large  steel  trap,  which  was  fastened  to  the 
log.  The  truth  was  now  plain.  The  animal  had  been 
caught  during  the  recent  storm,  miles  up  the  river,  and 


GLIMPSES  OF  WILD- CATS.  25 

subsequently  tree,  trap,  and  cat  had  floated  thitherward 
together.  Being  no  longer  afraid  that  it  might  run  away 
or  swim  off,  I  ventured  to  approach  a  little  nearer.  My 
curiosity  now  centered  in  the  turkey-buzzard,  for  appar- 
ently there  was  nothing  to  prevent  its  flying  away,  and, 
as  it  is  a  timid  bird,  I  was  indeed  sorely  puzzled.  Going 
yet  a  little  nearer,  I  could  just  make  out,  in  the  uncertain 
light,  that  a  sheep  was  floating  in  the  brush- wood,  and 
was  partly  upheld  by  it.  On  this  the  buzzard  had 
feasted,  notwithstanding  the  proximity  of  the  snarling 
cat,  and  now  it  was  so  gorged  that  it  could  not  fly,  as  the 
bird  must  needs  have  a  chance  to  take  a  little  run  and 
jump  before  it  can  mount  upward.  Standing  on  a  mat 
of  'drifting  brush- wood,  this  was  impracticable,  and.  while 
free  in  one  sense,  the  bird  was,  for  the  time  being,  as 
essentially  a  prisoner  as  the  trapped  wild-cat. 

Finding  that  I  could  not  direct  the  floating  mass  to 
the  nearest  dry  land,  in  consequence  of  its  bulk,  I  con- 
cluded to  remain  conveniently  near  and  see  what  might 
happen.  It  soon,  however,  became  too  dark  to  distin- 
guish either  cat  or  buzzard,  and  I  left  them  for  a  time 
in  statu  quo.  Some  hours  later,  by  bright  moonlight,  I 
paddled  to  the  spot  again,  but  found  the  currents  had 
changed  the  position  of  the  floating  mass  and  its  living 
freight.  The  raft  had  lodged  against  a  tree-top  and  be- 
come firmly  fixed,  and  the  buzzard  had  been  given  a 
chance.  At  all  events,  the  bird  was  missing.  Not  so, 
though,  the  cat.  It  was  still  on  the  log,  but  not  stand- 
ing up.  Going  closely  to  it,  I  found  that  it  was  sorely 
wounded  and  both  eyes  were  pecked  out.  There  was 
no  doubt  but  that  the  buzzard  had  realized  the  cat's 
helplessness,  and,  although  gorged  with  savory  mutton, 
had  attacked  the  poor  creature  "  out  of  pure  deviltry."  I 
ended  the  cat's  misery  by  shooting  it. 


26  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

The  last  wild-cat  I  saw  (1876)  was  met  with  most  un- 
expectedly. For  weeks  I  had  been  watching  the  move- 
ments of  a  family  of  ground-squirrels,  or  "  hackees,"  as  we 
call  them,  racing  to  and  fro  along  the  garden-fence.  I 
had  followed  them  up  persistently,  and  once  I  had  dug  out 
one  of  their  subterranean  homes.  The  family  history  of 
those  ground-squirrels  I  had  well-nigh  unraveled,  and 
was  disposed  to  worry  them  no  more.  Late  one  pleasant 
autumn  afternoon,  while  lying,  half  concealed,  in  a  mat 
of  long  grass,  watching  the  few  ground-squirrels  that 
were  scampering  about,  I  noticed  that  suddenly  a  great 
fear  overcame  them.  They  ran  to  and  fro,  with  no 
apparent  object,  and  kept  up  an  incessant  squeal-like 
bark.  Turning  in  every  direction  to  see  the  cause  of 
this  sudden  commotion,  I  at  last  discovered,  crouching  011 
the  trunk  of  a  lately-hewed  chestnut-tree,  a  fierce  wild- 
cat, that  looked  as  though  it  would  kill  all  the  squirrels 
by  its  angry  glances.  I  have  never  seen  at  any  time  so 
thoroughly  devilish  a  countenance  on  any  animal  as  in 
this  case.  In  the  murderous  jaws  of  the  cat  was  a  squir- 
rel. I  remained  perfectly  still,  having  the  animal  in  full 
view.  Presently  it  let  the  captured  squirrel  fall,  and, 
placing  one  fore-paw  upon  it,  the  cat  gave  a  long,  low 
growl,  very  unlike  any  sound  made  by  the  domestic  cat. 
It  was  repeated  at  short  intervals,  and  not  being  responded 
to,  so  far  as  I  could  detect,  the  animal  again  caught  up 
the  dead  squirrel  and  bounded  into  the  thickets.  I  fol- 
lowed cautiously  but  rapidly,  and  soon  found  the  animal 
again.  It  was  now  crouching  at  the  foot  of  an  enormous 
oak,  and  with  much  snarling  and  low  mutterings  was  de- 
vouring the  squirrel.  This  accomplished,  the  cat  curled 
itself  up  in  a  little  patch  of  sunshine  to  take  a  nap.  I 
cautiously  withdrew  ;  but  on  my  return  soon  after  with 
a  gun,  I  found  the  cat  had  left  for  parts  unknown. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WICKED   WEASELS. 

THOUGH  not  generally  known  to  farmers  and  poultry- 
raisers,  there  are  two  kinds  of  weasels  found  here,  and  I 
am  disposed  to  believe  that  one  is  as  seldom  in  mischief 
as  its  larger  cousin  is  out  of  it.  For  a  long  time  I  did 
not  recognize  any  difference  between  the  many  weasels 
that  I  made  note  of.  They  varied  greatly  in  size,  but 
not  otherwise.  In  my  field-notes,  it  is  true,  I  find  dis- 
tinctions made,  under  such  headings  as  "  little  "  or  "  short- 
tailed  "  weasels,  to  distinguish  certain  individuals  from 
others  that  were  typical  examples  of  the  commoner  wea- 
sel or  ermine.  It  appears  that  this  difference  in  size  is  of 
"specific  value,"  as  the  systematists  have  it,  and  what 
shall  follow  refers  to  the  "little  weasel,"  a  beautiful 
creature,  in  color  brown  above  and  white  as  snow  be- 
neath, and  with  a  little  pointed  tail  of  a  uniform  brown 
color.  This  little  weasel  is  not  nearly  so  common  as  the 
ermine. 

The  true  ermine,  or  large  weasel,  is  well  known  every- 
where, and  needs  no  further  mention,  except  to  say  that 
in  New  Jersey  it  very  seldom  turns  white ;  and  to  ques- 
tion the  statement  of  Audubon  that  in  autumn  they  do 
not  remain  together,  and  do  not  hunt  in  company.  I  am 
fully  convinced  that  the  individuals  of  a  family,  at  least, 
frequently,  if  not  habitually,  remain  together  until  March 
or  April  of  the  ensuing  year,  when  they  separate.  In 


28  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

two  instances,  both  occurring  in  the  month  of  November, 
several  weasels  were  caught  in  traps,  in  the  course  of 
three  successive  nights,  and  one  was  found  to  be  an  adult 
male,  another  a  female,  while  the  others,  being  smaller, 
were  therefore  believed  to  be  the  young. 

I  have  knowledge,  also,  of  a  man  being  attacked  by 
several  weasels  and  badly  bitten  by  them.  Before  he  es- 
caped from  their  fury,  he  managed  to  kill  two  of  them, 
and  I  judged  these  at  the  time  to  be  an  adult  male  and 
a  young  one  of  the  summer  just  past.  The  man  who 
passed  through  this  novel  but  dangerous  experience  be- 
lieved there  was  "  at  least  a  dozen  of  them  in  all " ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  it  was  a  family  of  weasels  that 
were  then  hunting  or  traveling  in  company. 

During  the  past  few  years  I  have,  during  winter, 
met  with  an  occasional  specimen  of  the  smaller  weasel, 
one  of  which  was  white.  It  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  taxi- 
dermist, and  was  lost  to  science.  It  measured,  before 
skinning,  six  and  one  half  inches  from  the  tip  of  the 
snout  to  the  root  of  the  tail.  The  tail  itself  measured 
two  and  one  fourth  inches  to  the  tip  of  the  last  caudal  ver- 
tebra, beyond  which  extended  a  few  coarse  hairs. 

Like  all  of  the  tribe  to  which  this  little  mammal  be- 
longs, this  creature  has  the  graceful,  wavy  gait,  when 
rambling  about,  that  is  so  characteristic  of  the  common 
or  larger  weasel.  If  unmolested,  it  moves  deliberately, 
and  from  side  to  side,  as  though  ever  on  the  watch  for 
prey.  If  pursued,  the  gait  alters  somewhat,  the  body  is 
less  curved,  and  it  scampers  off  at  great  speed,  although 
not  so  fast  that  a  good  running  dog  or  even  a  cat  can  not 
overtake  it. 

Quite  diurnal  in  their  habits  —  although  nocturnal, 
too,  I  suppose — they  not  unfrequently  come  to  our  very 
door-yards,  and  I  have  known  one  to  be  killed  by  the  cat, 


WICKED    WEASELS.  29 

which  probably  mistook  it  for  a  ground-squirrel  or  "  chip- 
munk." When  seized,  it  discharged  from  infra-caudal 
glands  a  fluid  having  a  faint  mephitic  odor,  which  evi- 
dently so  far  sickened  pussy  that  she  was  content  with 
simply  killing  the  animal,  and  did  not  attempt  to  eat  it, 
play  with  it,  or  carry  it  off. 

So  far  as  I  have  observed,  the  little  weasel  prefers 
wooded  hill-sides,  with  a  southern  outlook.  This  may 
not,  of  course,  be  applicable  to  the  animal  as  found  in 
other  places.  Those  that  I  have  seen  were  all  on  the  one 
sunny,  wooded  hill-side,  which  has  been  my  only  hunting- 
ground.  Given  the  woods,  there  must  needs  be  an  open 
meadow  near,  for  it  is  to  the  latter  that  they  go  to  hunt ; 
while  in  the  former  they  have  their  nests  and  find  safe 
cover  from  pursuing  foes. 

In  May,  1878,  a  pair  of  these  small  weasels  took  up 
their  abode  near  my  house.  My  first  intimation  of  their 
presence  was  the  marked  diminution  in  the  number  of 
ground-squirrels,  or  chipmunks,  which  I  had  intended  to 
carefully  study.  Then  a  young  chicken,  now  and  then, 
was  found  lying  dead,  with  a  hole  in  its  neck.  The  cry  of 
"Weasel !"  was  set  up,  but  none  were  seen  for  some  time. 
During  the  first  week  in  June,  as  I  was  looking  for  birds' 
nests,  I  spied  one  of  these  animals  running  in  the  path 
ahead  of  me.  Like  a  flash  it  disappeared  in  a  stump  that 
extended  into  the  path.  I  followed  it  up,  with  all  pos- 
sible dispatch,  and  from  the  "  signs  "  it  was  evident  that 
this  weasel  had  its  home  here,  and  was  continually  going 
and  coming  out  of  a  little  tortuous  passage-way  among 
the  roots  of  the  stump.  I  kept  my  own  counsel,  and 
quietly  followed  up  my  discovery  with  the  following  re- 
sults : 

The  pair  proved  to  be  quite  diurnal  in  their  habits, 
however  they  may  have  spent  their  nights,  and  were  fre- 


30  E AMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

quently  seen,  at  various  times  of  day,  but  never  together. 
On  emerging  from  its  semi-subterranean  retreat,  tie  ani- 
mal did  not  appear  to  look  about,  but  straightway  darted 
off  into  a  thicket  of  blackberry-bushes  near  by,  giving 
great  leaps,  as  though  fearful  of  leaving  behind  any  scent 
or  trace  by  which  the  nest  could  be  found.  I  noticed 
this  sudden  darting  from  the  entrance  beneath  the  stump 
on  several  occasions,  and  presume  it  is  a  customary 
method  of  leaving  or  entering  their  retreats.  Twice  I 
saw  the  weasel  return,  but  in  neither  case  did  it  bring 
any  food  with  it,  unless  it  was  some  object  smaller  than 
a  mouse,  nor  was  there  any  trace  of  fur  or  feathers  about 
the  entrance,  although  I  am  satisfied  that  this  same  pair 
had  destroyed  the  ground-squirrels  that  a  year  previously 
had  been  so  very  abundant. 

Ten  days  later,  I  concluded  to  dig  out  the  nest,  if 
possible,  in  order  to  destroy  the  litter  of  young  it  was 
supposed  to  contain,  and  thus  prevent  the  serious  raids 
which  I  feared  would  be  made  on  my  poultry. 

The  nest  was  scarcely  two  feet  from  the  entrance  on 
the  hill-side,  but  was  effectually  protected  by  the  large 
roots  of  the  stump,  behind  some  of  which  it  was  situated. 
It  was  lined  with  dead  leaves,  grass,  and  a  few  feathers 
of  (I  think)  the  robin  and  the  chewink,  and  the  skin  of 
a  snake,  but  no  sign  of  the  weasels  was  there.  The 
nest  had  no  odor  about  it,  that  I  could  detect,  but  my 
terrier  evidently  smelt  something,  for  he  dug  about  the 
stump,  with  great  energy,  for  several  days  after  I  had 
completed  my  examinations.  I  discovered,  soon  after, 
that  the  weasels  had,  very  shortly  before  I  endeavored  to 
dig  them  out,  transferred  their  quarters  to  a  rats'  burrow 
under  a  pig-sty,  not  far  off,  and  had  made  a  radical 
change  in  their  habits  and  diet,  in  so  far  as  they  now  fed 
exclusively  upon  the  rats  in  the  neighborhood.  There 


WICKED    WEASELS.  31 

was  found  in  their  new  quarters  a  large  pile  of  rats' 
bones,  and,  as  subsequent  experience  proved,  these  little 
weasels  had  effectually  cleared  the  premises  of  that  terri- 
ble pest.  My  dog,  however,  was  constantly  on  the  watch, 
and  finally  worried  the  weasels  so  that  they  again  sought 
new  quarters.  In  September,  I  found  them  once  again, 
and  this  time  they  had  made  a  new  home  under  a  large 
oak  growing  on  the  border  of  a  meadow.  Here  they 
seemed  to  be  living  wholly  upon  crickets,  frogs,  and 
mice,  particularly  the  pretty  white-footed  or  smaller 
jumping  mouse.  The  number  of  common  black  crickets 
and  grasshoppers  destroyed  by  them  was  enormous,  and 
this  fact  went  a  great  way  toward  recommending  the 
animal  as  being  really  sometimes  as  beneficial  as  it  was 
at  others  destructive.  Certainly  this  one  family  of  weasels 
did  me  no  harm.  They  destroyed  half  a  dozen  young 
chickens,  I  know ;  but  this  is  offset  by  ridding  me  of  a 
plague  of  rats,  at  least  for  that  year,  and  then  of  the 
grasshoppers  that  I  have  mentioned. 

The  care  that  had  been  exercised,  in  early  summer,  to 
prevent  the  discovery  of  their  nest,  was  now  abandoned. 
The  ground  in  front  of  it,  and  but  little  less  so  all  about 
the  tree,  was  covered  with  the  remains  of  the  crickets  and 
grasshoppers  that  swarmed  in  the  surrounding  meadows. 
My  impression  is,  that  the  weasels  were  constantly  on  the 
alert  for  them,  and  seized  every  one  that  ventured  upon 
the  grass  near  the  nest.  That  frogs  had  also  largely  been 
preyed  upon  was  evident  from  the  many  bones  that  I 
subsequently  found  in  and  near  the  entrance  to  the  nest. 

While  mice  were  the  game  which  they  appeared  regu- 
larly to  hunt,  one  species  proved  not  at  all  easy  of  cap- 
ture, unless  when  surprised.  This  was  the  jumping 
mouse,  or  jerboa.  Quite  late  in  the  month  (Septem- 
ber) I  was  intensely  interested  in  seeing  my  weasels  once 


32  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

more,  under  quite  different  circumstances.  While  stand- 
ing on  the  border  of  a  wide  stretch  of  meadow,  the  grass 
on  which  had  lately  been  mown,  I  saw  a  jumping-mouse 
give  an  enormous  leap,  and  no  sooner  had  it  touched  the 
ground  than  it  leaped  a  second  time,  with  even  greater 
energy,  but  not  in  the  same  direction.  For  some  reason 
it  had  turned  about,  and  in  leaping  returned  very  nearly 
to  the  spot  from  which  it  had  first  jumped.  Its  unusual 
actions  had  roused  my  curiosity,  and,  going  quickly  toward 
it,  I  was  surprised  to  see  a  little  weasel  bound  nimbly,  in 
its  peculiar  manner,  over  the  grass.  As  it  turned  out, 
there  were  three  of  these  animals,  near  each  other,  and 
undoubtedly  associated  together  in  the  hunt.  One  of 
them  had  flushed  the  mouse,  which  literally  came  very 
near  jumping  into  the  jaws  of  a  second,  and  had  I  not 
disturbed  them,  it  would  probably  have  been  seized  on 
touching  the  ground,  after  its  second  leap,  as  one  of  the 
weasels  was  very  near  the  spot  where  it  alighted.  On 
my  remaining  quiet,  the  weasels  resumed  their  hunt,  and 
one,  or  the  three  in  concert,  flushed  the  mouse  several 
times,  before  it  reached  the  thicket  near  by,  which  I 
hope,  at  least,  afforded  it  security  against  their  tireless 
persecution. 

This  incident,  and  my  impressions  from  the  little  I 
have  observed  of  the  larger  weasel  or  ermine,  convince 
me  that  during  autumn  and  winter  the  families  remain 
together.  If  this  is  not  true  of  weasels  in  wilder  and  un- 
cultivated regions,  is  it  a  habit  lately  acquired  by  those 
that  live  in  the  more  thickly  settled  districts,  being  found 
conducive  to  their  safety  ? 


CHAPTER  IY. 

OUE    COMMON    MINK. 

So  familiar  is  the  common  mink  to  every  one  who 
has  lived  in  the  country,  and  so  minutely  have  its  habits 
been  described,  that  nothing  can  be  added  to  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  animal.  My  field-notes  are  filled  with  brief 
references  to  it,  and  I  find  that  twenty  years  have  come 
and  gone  since  first  I  saw  a  living  specimen.  This  first 
experience  was  very  memorable,  and  is  even  yet  always 
recalled,  whenever,  as  I  float  leisurely  down  the  creek, 
on  the  lookout  for  fish  or  birds,  I  happen  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  a  stray  mink,  as  it  runs  along  the  shore  in 
quest  of  fish,  flesh,  or  fowl,  as  the  case  may  be.  I  seem 
to  witness  the  struggle  all  over  again,  and  need  no  refer- 
ence to  my  notes  to  refresh  my  memory,  though,  to  insure 
greater  accuracy,  I  will  transcribe  them  :  "  Cold,  raw  day, 
for  the  second  week  in  May  (1860),  but,  in  spite  of  the 
threatening  sky,  went  down  to  Watson's  Creek  to  look 
for  warblers.  Saw  nothing  but  yellow-rumped  warblers 
(Sylvicola  coronata),  and  only  a  few  of  them,  and  a  single 
listless  red-start  (Setophaga  ruticilla\t}\dLt  evidently  wished 
itself  in  the  sunny  South  again.  Near  the  '  big  ditch,' 
although  I  was  a  long  way  off,  I  saw  something  moving 
in  a  seemingly  rough-and-tumble  fashion,  so  I  hurried 
on.  It  proved  to  be  a  good-sized  ' snapper'  (Chelydra 
serpentina)  having  a  tussle  with  a  mink.  The  turtle  had 
the  mink  by  one  hind-leg,  and  held  on  like  grim  death, 


34:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

while  the  mink  had  its  jaws  buried  in  the  snapper's 
throat,  and  it,  too,  held  on,  although  t'he  snapper  kept  his 
head  moving  in  and  out,  all  the  time,  in  such  a  way  that 
the  back  of  the  mink's  head  was  being  rubbed  against 
the  edge  of  the  top  shell,  and  was  now  all  raw  and  bleed- 
ing. The  snapper  was  making  for  the  ditch,  twenty 
yards  off,  but  moved  pretty  slowly.  I  took  hold  of  him 
by  the  tail,  and,  holding  him  up,  put  my  foot  on  the 
mink  and  pulled  hard.  It  was  no  use.  Neither  let  go, 
and  it  was  a  question  of  the  turtle's  tail  or  the  mink's 
leg.  Then  I  tried  poking  the  snapper  with  my  cane, 
and  finally  he  gave  a  snap  at  the  stick,  but  was  too  much 
encumbered  by  the  mink's  clutch  of  his  throat  to  seize 
it.  The  mink,  however,  didn't  mean  to  let  go,  for,  when 
I  held  the  turtle  well  up  from  the  ground,  it  still  held 
on,  dangling  in  the  air,  and  apparently  dead.  A  smart 
rap  on  the  head,  while  swinging  in  the  air,  made  him  let 
go  at  last ;  but  the  broken  leg  and  loss  of  blood  had  used 
him  up,  and  he  lay  on  the  ground,  not  dead,  but  dying." 
This  is  my  "  note "  of  more  than  twenty  years  ago.  It 
is  among  the  first  of  my  field-notes,  and  I  let  it  stand,  as 
I  wrote  it,  while  rambling  about  Crosswicks  meadows. 
Ever  since  I  have  admired  the  pluck  of  the  mink,  for 
here  was  a  case  where,  for  a  considerable  time,  under  the 
most  painful  circumstances,  with  its  body  describing  a 
nearly  complete  circle,  it  had  firmly  maintained  its  grip, 
determined  to  sell  its  life  as  dearly  as  possible. 

That  the  mink  has  been  able  to  hold  its  own,  even  in 
thickly-settled  districts,  is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  possesses 
advantages  which  have  enabled  it  to  elude  the  persecu- 
tion to  which,  at  times,  all  our  mammals  are  subjected. 
Among  these  are  an  acute  sense  of  smell,  so  that  it  can 
scent  danger  from  afar,  and  a  high  rate  of  speed  when 
chased  "  in  the  open."  Like  the  little  weasel,  it  can  also 


OUR   COMMON  MINK.  35 

hide  in  a  marvelously  small  space.  In  fact,  everything 
is  so  favorable  to  it  that  it  has  learned  no  tricks,  and  re- 
sorts to  no  stratagem  when  it  finds  itself  at  close  quarters 
with  an  enemy.  It  has,  also,  in  common  with  the  otter 
and  the  musk-rat,  the  advantage  of  being  as  much  at 
home  in  the  water  as  on  the  land ;  and  hence  it  largely 
frequents  those  irreclaimable  tracts  of  marsh  and  swamp 
that,  being  useless  to  man,  are  but  little  frequented  by 
him.  Still,  the  mink  has  suffered  more  than  most  animals 
from  the  attentions  of  the  professional  trapper. 

Whenever  I  have  seen  a  mink,  in  my  meadow  ram- 
bles, I  have  been  impressed  with  the  fact  that  all  animals 
that  fear  man  are  as  much  on  the  lookout  for  him,  and 
try  as  sedulously  to  avoid  him,  as  they  do  any  of  their 
natural  enemies.  This  fear  of  enemies  I  believe  to  be 
ever  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  animals ;  and  possibly 
the  mink  considers  man  an  enemy  to  be  shunned  just  as 
decidedly  as  the  toad  shuns  the  snake.  If,  then,  animals 
entertain  this  dread  of  man  at  all  times,  is  it  at  all  strange 
that  we  so  seldom  see  them  when  we  go  bungling  about 
their  haunts?  We  probably  never  take  a  walk  in  the 
woods  that  wre  are  not  watched  by  many  creatures  which 
we  do  not  see ;  and  many  a  squeak  or  whistle,  which,  if 
we  heard  at  all,  is  attributed  to  some  bird,  is  a  signal-cry 
of  danger  made  by  some  one  animal,  which,  having  seen 
us,  takes  this  method  of  warning  its  fellows.  Even  the 
little  white-footed  mouse  can  squeak  so  shrilly  as  to  be 
heard  several  yards ;  and  the  bark  of  the  gray  squirrel  is 
a  far-reaching  note.  The  little  ground-squirrel,  or  chip- 
munk, can  whistle  a  single  note  of  warning,  that  scarcely 
differs  from  the  clear  notes  of  the  crested  titmouse. 

I  have  more  than  once  tested  this  in  the  case  of  the 
mink.  Mooring  my  boat  near  where  I  had  reason  to 
believe  these  animals  had  their  nests,  and  remaining  per- 


36  EAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

fectly  quiet  and  in  hiding,  I  have  usually  been  rewarded 
by  seeing  the  minks  moving  about  as  soon  as  their  confi- 
dence was  restored  by  the  absence  of  all  signs  of  life  in 
or  about  the  boat.  They  would  come  out  of  their  bur- 
rows, or  from  under  large  roots,  and  dive  into  the  water, 
or  it  might  be  that  they  carried  some  food  from  the  shore 
to  their  retreat.  Any  act  of  this  kind,  free  from  the  re- 
straint of  fear,  is  in  the  case  of  all  animals  the  most  inter- 
esting and  instructive,  and,  were  our  opportunities  of  this 
kind  more  frequent,  our  knowledge  of  animal  life  would 
soon  be  largely  increased.  Important  as  it  is  to  measure 
their  bones  and  count  their  teeth,  most  of  the  great  prob- 
lems of  biology  can,  after  all,  only  be  solved  by  careful 
study  of  animal  life  in  its  native  haunts,  and  in  an  envi- 
ronment not  essentially  influenced  by  the  presence  of 
man. 

A  few  words  as  to  the  animals  upon  which  the  mink 
preys.  While  from  its  quick  movements  and  weasel-like 
capability  of  stealing  quickly  along  through  tall  grass, 
without  adding  a  tremor  to  a  blade,  the  mink  has 
everything  in  its  favor,  it  limits  its  attacks  to  those  birds 
that  are  not  capable  of  serious  resistance.  In  August, 
when  the  marsh-meadows  are  teeming  with  the  sora-rail, 
the  minks  have  a  jolly  time,  and  capture  hundreds  of 
them,  in  spite  of  the  speed  at  which  these  birds  can  run, 
and  of  their  moderate  power  of  flight.  In  early  summer 
minks  destroy  many  young  ducks  by  seizing  them  by  the 
feet  and  drowning  them,  as  does  the  musk-rat,  the  snap- 
ping-turtle,  and,  as  claimed  by  some,  even  the  big  bull-frog. 
But  when  it  comes  to  attacking  the  herons  and  bitterns, 
except  perhaps  the  least  bittern,  it  is  a  question  whether 
the  mink  would  not  be  at  a  serious  disadvantage  in  ap- 
proaching them.  Unless  they  could  seize  these  tall  birds 
by  the  throat,  which  would  not  be  easily  accomplished, 


OUR  COMMON  MINK.  37 

they  would  be  certain  to  receive,  in  return  for  their  au- 
dacity, a  fatal  stab  from  the  beak  of  the  bird.  Over-con- 
fident spaniels  that  have  been  sent  to  retrieve  disabled 
herons  have  been  fatally  injured,  and  why  a  like  result 
should  not  occur  when  an  uninjured  bird  is  attacked  I 
can  not  imagine.  Judging  from  a  little  experience  of 
my  own  with  a  wounded  bittern,  I  should  say  the  nim- 
bleness  of  the  mink  would  not  avail  it  very  much. 

Besides  birds  and  fish,  minks  devour  a  miscellaneous 
mass  of  animal  matter.  Much  of  this  is  carried  to  the 
entrance  of  their  nests  and  eaten  at  leisure.  In  one  in- 
stance I  counted  fragments  of  what  I  believe  to  be  over 
three  hundred  cray-fish,  besides  bones  of  fishes  in  abun- 
dance, and  the  shells  also  of  three  painted  turtles.  The 
latter  were  probably  dead  when  found  by  the  minks. 

While  occasional  fights  doubtless  occur  between 
musk-rats  and  minks,  in  consequence  of  their  usually  liv- 
ing close  together,  I  never  had  any  reason  to  consider 
them  as  u  natural  enemies,"  and  as  being  forever  at  war. 
Statements  to  this  effect  have  frequently  been  made,  but 
such  has  not  been  the  result  of  my  own  observation. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE    SKUNK. 

IF  happily  we  can  make  our  observations  unseen  by 
the  animal,  we  can  not  but  admire  the  beauty  of  the 
markings  and  general "  make-up  "  of  this  handsome  mam- 
mal ;  but,  even  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances, 
much  caution  is  desirable  on  the  part  of  the  observer,  for 
too  great  eagerness  may  result  in  vexing  the  animal,  and 
thus  destroying  the  balmy  freshness  of  the  sweet  June 
woods. 

Although  seldom  seen  at  present,  in  comparison  with 
fifty  years  ago,  skunks  are  probably  less  rare  than  they 
are  supposed  to  be.  In  thickly-settled  districts,  however, 
they  have  become  more  wary  on  account  of  their  perse- 
cution by  dogs,  and  in  such  localities,  I  believe,  become 
strictly  nocturnal  in  their  habits.  While  disclaiming  any 
particular  predilection  for  the  animal,  I  must  admit  that 
I  like  them,  and  when  an  opportunity  offers  to  follow  one 
up  I  always  do  so  with  a  feeling  of  interest,  all  the  greater, 
perhaps,  from  the  danger  that  attends  the  investigation, 
though,  as  yet,  I  have  never  met  with  an  accident. 

I  am  disposed  to  pay  them  a  high  compliment  at  the 
outset,  for,  from  my  observations  of  a  dozen  or  more  dur- 
ing the  last  twenty  years,  I  credit  them  with  being  as 
cunning  as  foxes.  This  is  at  variance  with  the  observa- 
tions of  naturalists  generally,  but  here  I  am  speaking  of 


THE  SKVNK.  39 

the  few  that  linger  in  a  thickly-settled  locality.  But  of 
this  hereafter. 

In  his  notes  on  the  skunk,  writtsn  in  1748,  Kalm 
makes  one  statement  concerning  them  which  is  of  consid- 
erable interest,  if  it  be  not  an  error.  I  refer  to  their 
ability  to  climb  trees.  He  says :  "  It  keeps  its  young 
one  in  holes  in  the  ground  and  in  hollow  trees ;  for  it 
does  not  confine  itself  to  the  ground,  but  climbs  up  trees 
with  the  greatest  agility  ;  it  is  a  great  enemy  to  birds, 
for  it  breaks  their  eggs  and  devours  their  young  ones." 

Now,  Dr.  Coues,  recently,  writing  of  these  animals, 
remarks  that  they  "  neither  climb  trees  nor  swim  in  the 
water " ;  and  again,  he  describes  them  as  lacking  "  the 
scansorial  ability  of  the  martens."  I  can  not  speak  of 
the  skunks  of  1748,  but  I  am  very  sure  that  I  have  never 
seen  one  climbing  a  tree,  or  even  resting  among  its 
branches ;  but  that  they  have  a  trace  of  "  scansorial  abil- 
ity "  I  can  testify,  for  I  have  several  times  witnessed 
their  walking — once  running — on  the  top  rail  of  a  worm 
fence,  and  certainly  this  feat  requires  an  amount  of  agil- 
ity that  would,  I  think,  enable  the  animal  to  do  a  little 
climbing  if  the  trunks  of  the  trees  were  not  perpendicu- 
lar. Still,  I  have  a  Skye  terrier  that  likewise  runs  on  the 
top  rail  of  fences  with  perfect  ease,  arid  yet  he  can  not 
climb  a  tree.  The  difference  between  the  two  animals  is 
to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  the  skunk  climbs  to  the  top  of 
the  fence,  while  the  terrier  jumps  on  it.  But  then  comes 
the  question,  How  does  the  skunk  get  into  hay-mows  if 
he  can  not  climb  ?  Surely  he  never  would  allow  himself 
to  be  pitched  in  with  the  hay,  in  July,  and  be  content  to 
remain  there  quietly  until  winter,  without  giving  the  un- 
lucky farmer  cause  to  think  that  "  somewhere  near  there 
be  a  pesky  skoonk,"  as  was  once  said  to  me. 

But  if  not  a  good  climber,  or  not  a  climber  at  all,  the 


40  E AMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

skunk  can  dig  with  marvelous  ease,  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  time  it  can  bury  itself  deeply  in  the  ground.  Late 
in  the  autumn  of  last  year  (1881)  I  chanced  to  overtake 
one  of  these  creatures  in  an  open  meadow.  On  discover- 
ing my  approach,  the  animal  started  off  on  a  brisk  trot, 
heading  for  the  nearest  trees.  I  made  no  effort  to  over- 
take it,  for  obvious  reasons,  but  kept  the  animal  in  sight. 
When  it  reached  the  edge  of  the  meadow,  where  stood  a 
clump  of  large  trees,  it  immediately  commenced  digging 
with  great  rapidity,  and  in  certainly  less  than  one  minute 
it  had  tunneled  so  far  beneath  the  roots  of  one  of  the 
trees  that  I  could  not  see  it,  although,  of  course,  I  was 
more  cautious  in  my  explorations  than  would  be  neces- 
sary with  any  other  mammal. 

This  ability  to  tunnel  in  loose  earth  stands  them  well 
in  need  when  they  frequent  thickly-settled  neighborhoods, 
as  they  often  make  deep,  temporary  burrows  in  plowed 
fields,  and  find  there  a  safe  retreat  during  the  day.  As 
they  can  dig  for  themselves  such  an  underground  shelter 
as  they  need  in  a  few  moments,  of  course  it  is  occupied  but 
for  a  few  hours.  At  night  they  are  abroad  in  search  of 
food,  and,  let  them  be  where  they  may  at  daybreak,  they 
can  conceal  themselves  in  a  few  moments  so  effectually 
that  their  whereabouts  is  not  suspected.  This,  I  believe, 
is  the  secret  of  their  survival  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
our  towns.  Had  they  only  elaborate  burrows  to  which, 
week  after  week,  they  resorted,  then,  doubtless,  they 
would  soon  be  discovered  and  driven  off  or  destroyed. 
When  the  ground  is  loose  or  newly  plowed,  the  skunk 
also  resorts  to  digging  to  escape  pursuit.  I  have  knowl- 
edge of  one  instance  in  which  the  animal  buried  itself 
so  quickly  as  to  escape,  although  hard  pressed.  Then  it 
did  not  throw  out  the  dirt  behind  it  as  it  progressed,  but 
wormed  itself  through  the  loose  earth  much  as  a  mole 


THE  SKUNK.  41 

does.  I  subsequently  determined  that  the  skunk,  in  this 
case,  reached  a  depth  of  four  feet  and  tunneled  a  distance 
of  nearly  twenty  It  then  turned  about,  and  two  hours 
later  came  to  the  surface  within  a  few  inches  of  where 
it  entered  the  ground.  When  pursued  by  dogs,  however, 
they  do  not  trust  to  digging  alone,  but  they  endeavor  to 
avoid  an  encounter  by  throwing  the  dog  off  the  scent, 
and  to  do  this  they  will  pass  along  the  top  rail  of  a  fence. 
If  this  fails,  then  their  peculiar  powers  are  brought  into 
play. 

I  believe  that  this  animal  has  learned  the  wisdom  of 
avoiding  the  use  of  its  peculiar  means  of  defense  when 
other  avenues  of  escape  are  open,  as  it  seems  to  know, 
possibly  through  "  inherited  experiences,"  that  this  dis- 
charge, while  driving  off  one  enemy,  will  attract  a  dozen 
others.  Certainly,  it  is  as  much  annoyed  by  the  fearful 
stench  as  the  unfortunate  recipient  of  the  discharge,  and 
it  must  know,  if  it  has  any  trace  of  intelligence,  that 
dogs  from  every  quarter  will  be  attracted,  not  by  the 
sweet  savor  thereof,  but  by  the  fact  that  the  animal  that 
originates  this  "  atmospheric  disturbance  "  is  somewhere 
in  the  vicinity. 

From  a  series  of  observations  made  in  1872,  I  am  dis- 
posed to  believe  that  the  skunk  discharges  the  defensive 
glands,  when  distended,  in  holes  which  it  digs  for  the 
purpose  and  then  covers  over.  This  is  a  matter  of  pru- 
dence, comfort,  and  cleanliness  to  them,  as  it  renders 
them  less  liable  to  be  persecuted  by  dogs;  and  their 
nests  and  haunts  during  the  early  summer,  when  they 
have  their  offspring  to  look  after,  are  much  less  offensive. 
Indeed,  a  nest  of  skunks  is  no  more  offensive  to  me  than 
that  of  the  mink  or  weasel.  Whether  the  care  exhibited 
by  them  in  keeping  their  homes  clean  and  comparatively 
odorless  is  due  to  their  own  dislike  of  the  smell  of  their 


42  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

offensive  discharges,  or  is  simply  a  measure  of  precau- 
tion, the  fact  remains  that  such  homes  are  often  in  fre- 
quented spots,  and  the  presence  of  the  animal  is  not  sus- 
pected. Remaining  carefully  concealed  throughout  the 
day,  and  using  great  caution  in  their  wandering  at  night, 
they  escape  notice,  and  are  thus  able  to  rear  their  young 
in  safety. 

While  not  exhibiting  the  aversion  to  water  that  char- 
acterizes our  common  cats,  the  skunk  does  not  appear  to 
take  to  swimming  voluntarily,  even  when  closely  pursued. 
Thus,  when  trying  to  evade  an  enemy,  if  it  comes  to  the 
bank  of  a  pond  or  creek,  it  will  usually  turn  from  its 
course,  and  seek  safety  in  some  other  way  than  by  flight. 
Occasionally,  however,  in  the  upper  valley  of  the  Dela- 
ware, where  these  animals  are  much  more  abundant  than 
in  the  southern  or  tide-water  portion  of  the  State,  the 
heavy  freshets  of  early  spring  will  catch  them  napping, 
and  then  they  are  forced  to  seek  safety  by  clinging  to 
floating  logs.  In  this  position  they  take  an  unwilling 
ride  often  of  many  miles,  and  if  luckily  they  escape 
drowning,  it  is  only  to  find  themselves  landed  in  a  level, 
scantily-wooded  country,  the  very  opposite  in  all  respects 
to  their  original  home. 

Here  it  may  not  be  inopportune  to  add  that  when, 
as  has  frequently  happened,  a  skunk,  an  opossum,  and 
several  musk-rats  seek  safety,  at  the  same  time,  from  a 
sudden  flood,  and  they  all  take  refuge  on  the  same  log, 
there  is  no  visible  commotion  or  disturbance  among  them, 
though  the  wide  berth  given  the  skunk  warrants  the  be- 
lief that  all  our  mammals  have  a  wholesome  dread  of  the 
possible  exercise  of  his  peculiar  method  of  defense.  My 
impression,  however,  is  that,  when  skunks  are  fighting 
among  themselves,  or  contending  with  minks  or  opos- 
sums, as  sometimes  happens,  over  some  hapless  chicken, 


THE  SKUNK.  43 

the  use  of  their  defensive  and  offensive  glands  is  not 
brought  into  play  as  is  the  case  when  they  are  brought 
to  bay  or  seized  by  a  dog  or  man.  Skunks,  however, 
had  this  power  before  they  were  exposed  to  the  attacks 
of  men  and  dogs,  and,  if  not  used  as  a  means  of  offense 
when  among  mammals  smaller  than  themselves,  it  was 
acquired  as  the  necessary  safeguard  against  their  dog-like 
enemies,  the  wolves  and  foxes. 

When  their  involuntary  river-voyages  are  undertaken, 
it  often  happens  that  a  short  swim  becomes  necessary. 
This  is  always  so  clumsily  done  that,  if  a  skunk  has  more 
than  a  few  yards  to  go,  it  will  probably  be  drowned. 
They  are  not  equally  averse,  I  find,  to  traveling  on  ice ; 
and  the  last  living  skunk  I  saw  was  walking  on  the  ice 
from  a  small  wooded  island  in  Watson's  Creek  to  the 
main  shore.  While  inactive  and  prone  to  long  naps  in 
extreme  winter  weather,  the  skunk  can  hardly  be  consid- 
ered as  hibernating. 

Skunks  are  very  partial  to  snakes  as  an  article  of  food. 
In  fact,  these,  with  frogs  and  birds'  eggs,  seem  to  be  their 
main  support.  Were  they  under  all  circumstances  odor- 
less and  quite  harmless,  their  eager  search  for  these  latter 
articles  is  sufficient  to  condemn  them.  It  is  bad  enough 
that  the  demands  of  science  should  seem  to  require  the 
collection  in  a  systematic  manner  of  an  occasional  nest 
and  complement  of  eggs.  This  can  not  be  avoided  ;  but 
to  aggravate  the  evil  by  having  a  skunk  destroy  most  of 
the  ground-nests  in  the  neighborhood  is  beyond  all  en- 
durance. Better,  surely,  a  nest  of  thrushes  or  song-spar- 
rows than  a  litter  of  skunks.  An  animal  that  destroys 
birds'  nests  is  always  a  nuisance,  though  I  do  not  object 
to  any  other,  however  wicked.  But  to  return  to  the 
snakes.  When  pressed  by  hunger,  and  hunting  by  day- 
light, the  skunk  prefers  to  go  after  snakes  rather  than 


44  GAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

frogs,  or  to  risking  itself  within  the  precincts  of  the  poul- 
try-yard. Indeed,  small  snakes  are  evidently  a  great 
dainty,  and  the  skunk  appears  to  be  more  active  when 
he  finds  a  garter-snake,  blind-worm,  or  flat-head  adder, 
than  at  any  other  time.  Having  discovered  a  snake,  he 
rises  upon  his  hind-feet,  and,  giving  a  bear-like  apology 
for  a  dance,  he  endeavors  to  seize  the  snake  by  the  tail. 
If  successful,  he  shakes  the  snake  vigorously,  as  a  dog 
would  do,  and  seizing  it,  when  dead  or  nearly  so,  near 
the  middle  of  the  body,  he  carries  it  off  to  his  burrow,  or 
to  a  hollow  log,  or  to  whatever  shelter  he  has  at  the 
time. 

In  June,  1863,  I  witnessed  a  terrific  combat  between 
a  large  skunk  and  a  black  snake,  which,  I  judge,  measured 
fully  five  feet  in  length.  The  prowling  skunk  had  evi- 
dently seized  the  snake  by  the  tail,  and  endeavored  to 
give  it  a  violent  shake,  as  it  would  a  little  garter-snake. 
This  angered  the  snake,  and,  turning  like  lightning,  he 
wrapped  himself  about  the  skunk,  completely  encircling 
both  neck  and  body.  The  head  was  so  far  free  that  the 
skunk  could  give  the  snake  nip  after  nip,  though  it  could 
not  get  a  strong  enough  hold  to  disable  it.  Rolling  over 
and  over,  hissing  and  snapping,  the  snake  nearly  con- 
cealed by  the  long  hair  of  the  skunk,  the  two  creatures 
presented  a  strange  spectacle  as  they  struggled,  the  one 
to  conquer,  the  other  to  escape.  After  watching  them 
for  fully  five  minutes,  I  ventured  to  approach,  and  dealt 
the  two  a  hard  blow  with  a  club,  and  then  ran  back  a 
few  paces,  not  knowing  what  might  be  the  result.  Turn- 
ing about,  I  ventured  to  return  part  of  the  way  to  see 
whether  the  struggle  continued.  All  was  comparatively 
quiet,  and,  coming  still  nearer,  I  found  that  the  snake  had 
relinquished  its  hold  and  was  slowly  retiring  in  a  dis- 
abled condition.  The  skunk  was  lying  quite  motionless, 


THE  SKUNK.  45 

and  proved  to  be  dying,  though,  not  dead.  Soon  after, 
I  examined  the  animal  carefully,  and  found  that  it  had 
been  strangled,  or  nearly  so. 

During  this  combat  there  was  no  discharge  of  the  de- 
fensive glands  of  the  skunk.  Whether  these  were  in- 
active at  the  time,  or  whether  they  were  disabled  by  the 
snake's  attack,  can  not,  of  course,  be  determined. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   OTTER. 

OTTERS  are  now  so  seldom  seen,  even  along  Cross- 
wicks  Creek,  that  it  may  be  counted  a  piece  of  great  good 
luck  to  meet  with  one  in  the  course  of  a  day's  ramble. 
I  feel  repaid  for  the  exertion  of  a  ten-mile  tramp  if  one 
crosses  my  path,  or  if  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  one  as  it  dives 
into  the  stream.  Not  much  to  be  learned,  I  grant,  from 
such  a  brief  acquaintance ;  but  there  is,  at  least,  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  that  otters  are  about ;  and  then  it 
becomes  our  business  to  find  them,  not  for  them  to  make 
an  exhibition  of  themselves,  or  publish  the  whereabouts 
of  their  chosen  haunts. 

Though  these  animals  are  now  quite  rare,  it  has  not 
been  many  years  since  they  were  comparatively  abundant. 
Local  history  informs  us  that  they  were  formerly  to  be 
found  in  Crosswicks  Creek,  and  in  my  mucky  meadows 
even,  in  great  numbers,  and  it  has  preserved  the  details 
of  certain  wonderful  hunts  in  which  a  dozen  or  more 
pelts  were  secured  in  one  day.  "My  four  otter-skin 
lap-robes  and  my  otter-skin  great-coat "  are  items  in  the 
will  of  one  who  lived  near  by,  less  than  half  a  century 
ago.  There  are  even  old  trappers  still  living  who  for- 
merly depended  upon  otter-skins  as  the  main  source  of 
their  profit  in  a  winter's  trapping.  So  much  for  the  ir- 
recoverable past ! 

My  notes  make  mention  of  a  sunny  day  in  June,  1869, 


THE  OTTER.  47 

when  I  happened  to  wander  to  a  wild  spot  some  four 
miles  away,  on  the  muddy,  sloping  banks  of  a  tideless 
stream.  Here  I  took  my  stand,  and  in  the  dense  shadow  of 
the  overhanging  trees  began  my  observations  on  the  owls 
and  jays  that  were,  as  I  thought,  my  only  companions. 
Soon,  however,  I  found  out  my  mistake,  as  a  loud  splash 
notified  me  of  the  presence  of  other  company.  It  was  an 
otter,  and,  as  my  approach  had  not  been  seen  and  I  stood 
motionless  for  some  minutes  after  hearing  the  splash,  I 
was  duly  rewarded  for  my  prudence  and  patience  by  see- 
ing the  animal  slowly  emerge  from  the  glassy  surface 
of  the  pond,  holding  a  large  fish  in  his  mouth.  With 
awkward  steps  he  crawled  up  the  opposite  bank,  and  in 
a  marvelously  short  time  he  devoured  the  fish,  or  most 
of  it.  Then  walking  to  a  point  beyond,  but  in  full  view, 
he  squatted  down  until  his  belly  rested  on  the  muddy 
slope,  and,  holding  his  head  well  up,  with  an  expression 
of  extreme  satisfaction,  he  slowly  slid  down  the  smooth 
bank  and  disappeared  beneath  the  surface  of  the  water. 

I  waited  a  full  hour,  but  he  did  not  reappear.  Since 
then  I  have  but  seldom  seen  living  otters.  Once  I  over- 
took a  large  one,  that  at  first  u  showed  fight."  It  was 
in  a  small  but  dense  huckleberry-swamp  without  water 
enough  for  a  comfortable  bath.  To  find  these  animals 
thus,  away  from  deep  ponds  and  running  streams,  is  a 
rare  occurrence.  Their  main  food-supply  is  fish,  and 
what  substitute  they  find  in  swamps  I  can  not  say,  un- 
less it  be  the  innumerable  frogs  that  abound  in  such  lo- 
calities. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  determine  positively  what 
sounds  and  cries,  if  any,  are  made  by  this  animal.  Al- 
though my  opportunities  for  studying  their  habits  have 
been  very  few,  I  have  always  had  this  matter  in  mind 
whenever  I  have  chanced  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  them. 


4:8  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

From  a  single  occurrence,  I  am  disposed  to  believe  that 
they  have  what  we  may  call  a  whistle,  or  whistle-like 
scream,  uttered  occasionally  when  several  of  them  are 
met  together.  My  reasons  for  thinking  so  are  founded 
upon  an  incident  that  happened  several  years  ago.  While 
bobbing  for  eels  in  Watson's  Creek,  near  by,  one  pleasant 
moonlight  night  in  August,  my  attention  was  drawn  to 
a  commotion  in  the  water,  about  fifty  "yards  distant.  I 
quickly  raised  the  "  bob,"  and  gave  my  whole  attention 
to  the  splashing  and  dashing,  which  were  evidently  caused 
by  some  three  or  four  animals  of  large  size.  What  they 
were  I  could  not  positively  determine;  but  they  were 
evidently  too  large  for  minks,  and  I  could  hardly  believe 
that  they  were  musk-rats.  The  clear  light  of  the  harvest 
moon,  however,  enabled  me  to  see  that  mammals  of  some 
kind  were  either  fighting  or  playing  on  and  about  a  half- 
sunken  log,  one  portion  of  which  projected  a  short  distance 
above  the  surface  of  the  water.  At  three  different  times, 
one,  and,  as  it  seemed,  the  largest  of  these  animals  was 
alone  upon  the  projecting  portion  of  the  log,  the  others 
at  the  time  being  nowhere  visible.  At  each  time  that 
this  unknown  creature  was  thus  alone,  it  uttered  a  pecul- 
iar cry  or  call,  which  may  be  described  as  commencing 
with  a  low  whistle  and  ending  with  a  hiss.  The  sound 
was  unlike  anything  that  I  had  ever  heard,  and,  while 
somewhat  cat-like,  would  never  be  mistaken  for  the  cry 
of  that  animal.  Each  time  the  animal  made  this  sound, 
it  appeared  to  raise  itself  on  its  hind-feet  and  then  dived, 
when  almost  immediately  the  other  two  or  three  appeared 
and  mounted  the  log.  There  was  not  sufficient  light  for 
me  to  determine  anything  positively,  but  I  have  always 
believed  that  the  animals  I  saw  and  heard  were  a  female 
otter  and  her  young. 

The  last  otter  that  I  saw  alive  was  in  February,  1874. 


TEE  OTTER.  4.9 

In  the  same  stream  where,  thirteen  years  before,  I  saw 
the  supposed  otter  and  her  young,  amid  cakes  of  floating 
ice,  during  a  freshet,  I  saw  a  very  large  otter  come  to  the 
surface  with  a  chub  in  its  mouth.  It  seemed  quite  at 
home  in  the  icy  waters,  but  dived  immediately  when  it 
saw  me.  Soon,  however,  it  reappeared  far  out  in  the 
stream,  and  clambering  on  a  cake  of  ice  it  drifted  slowly 
outward  "  to  join  the  brimming  river." 

I  sought  to  drive  it  from  this  stand,  by  shouting 
and  throwing  snow-balls ;  but  it  evidently  knew  that  I 
could  do  it  no  harm  at  that  distance,  and  it  appeared  to 
watch  me  with  sublime  indifference  as  it  slowly  floated 
seaward  on  the  trembling  raft  of  ice. 

This  otter  was  much  of  the  time  within  easy  range, 
had  I  had  a  gun  or  rifle ;  but  the  animal  seemed  to  know 
that  I  was  unarmed.  At  all  events,  it  showed  no  such 
fear  as  animals  usually  do  when  a  hunter  is  about.  It 
may  be  a  mere  coincidence,  I  know,  but  for  many  years 
I  have  noticed  that  I  invariably  have  better  luck  in 
seeing  mammals  and  birds  when  I  go  into  the  fields  un- 
armed than  when  I  have  my  gun  with  me.  It  is  cer- 
tainly true  that  crows  know  a  gun  when  they  see  it,  and 
may  it  not  be  that  among  our  large  mammals  this  knowl- 
edge obtains  also  ? 

Kalm  does  not  make  much  mention  of  the  otter,  al- 
though seen  by  him  frequently.  His  one  brief  remark 
concerning  them  refers  to  the  ease  with  which  they  can 
be  tamed  and  trained.  He  says :  "  Beavers  have  been 
so  tamed  that  they  have  gone  out  fishing,  and  brought 
home  what  they  had  caught  to  their  masters.  This  often 
is  the  case  with  otters,  of  which  I  have  seen  some  which 
were  as  tame  as  dogs,  and  followed  their  masters  wher- 
ever they  went ;  if  he  went  into  a  boat,  the  otter  went 
with  him,  jumped  into  the  water,  and  after  a  while  came 

3 


50  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

rip  with  a  fish."  This,  alas!  is  something  of  the  past, 
and  no  recent  attempts  to  train  otters  have  been  made  in 
my  neighborhood.  The  nearest  approach  to  it  was  an 
effort  simply  to  tame  a  half -grown  specimen,  and  this 
could  scarcely  be  called  a  success,  as  the  animal  never 
would  allow  itself  to  be  handled,  but  fought  the  dog  and 
bit  the  tamer's  wife— refused  food,  and  died  in  less  than 
a  week. 


CHAPTEK  VII. 

THE   FLYING-SQIJIKKEL. 

ABOUT  sunset,  or  even  later,  after  nightfall,  out  there 
comes  from  some  hidden  hollow  in  the  trees,  with  a  joy- 
ous bound,  our  merry-hearted  pet — the  flying-squirrel — 
and,  hastening  to  the  outermost  branch  of  his  home-tree, 
he  literally  spreads  his  wings  and  sails  through  the  air 
from  tree  to  tree,  on  and  on,  through  the  depths  of  the 
woods. 

But  not  alone  is  he  when  thus  on  his  nightly  travels. 
Another  and  another  of  his  kin  come  from  the  same  hol- 
low in  the  tree,  and  young  and  old  traverse  in  like  man- 
ner some  well-known  tree-top  route  in  search  of  their 
daily  food.  Often  they  do  not  return  until  morning,  un- 
less it  is  very  dark,  and  then  they  soon  return  by  the 
same  route,  chattering  like  school-girls  as  they  pass  with 
marvelous  expedition  from  tree  to  tree.  It  must  not, 
however,  be  supposed  that  they  promptly  retire  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night,  even  when  they  happen  to  come 
home  early.  Yery  far  from  it.  Their  jaunt  seems  only 
to  have  stretched  their  limbs  and  given  them  a  taste  for 
the  frolic  among  the  upper  branches  of  the  trees,  and  is 
really  indescribable.  It  would  be  hard  enough  to  give  the 
details  of  these  movements  even  if  plainly  seen  in  broad 
day.  Such  a  chance,  however,  seldom  or  never  occurs, 
and  the  little  I  have  seen  of  them  has  been  by  stray 
glimpses  caught  during  clear  moonlit  nights.  Unsatis- 


52  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

factory  as  these  opportunities  have  been,  they  fully  con- 
vinced me  that  the  scansorial  abilities  of  these  animals 
are  quite  equal  to  those  of  the  common  gray  squirrel,  and 
they  have  also  shown  me  that  for  hours  these  little  squir- 
rels will  clamber  and  jump  from  limb  to  limb  of  the 
same  tree,  without  calling  into  play  their  flight-power. 

When  disturbed  during  the  day,  unless  hurt,  they  are 
for  a  considerable  time  as  stupid  as  owls,  probably  be- 
cause "  their  large  eyes,  like  those  of  the  owl,  can  not 
meet  the  glare  of  the  sun."  In  time,  however,  even 
though  the  day  be  very  bright,  they  seem  to  realize  the 
situation,  and  then,  if  on  the  ground,  they  scamper  off 
with  an  easy  but  not  graceful  gait ;  but  if  they  happen 
to  be  in  a  tree  among  trees,  then  they  use  their  "  wings." 
Never  have  I  seen  them,  on  being  disturbed,  make  any 
effort  to  conceal  themselves,  which  they  might  easily  do ; 
more  readily,  indeed,  being  smaller,  than  the  gray  squirrel, 
which  appears  always  to  elude  pursuit  by  an  effort  to 
conceal  itself,  and  only  to  run  away  when  it  finds  that  its 
previous  effort  at  hiding  has  failed.  That  the  flying- 
squirrel  should  not  adopt  a  similar  mode  of  seeking 
safety  when  pursued  has  ever  been  a  mystery  to  me. 

From  numerous  experiments  and  many  observations, 
I  am  satisfied  that  the  flight-power  of  this  squirrel  ena- 
bles it  to  preserve  a  horizontal  position  of  several  feet 
— ten  or  twelve — before  the  downward  glide  commences  ; 
but  the  membrane  once  expanded,  is  not  apparently 
moved  in  any  manner  until  the  animal  draws  in  its  feet 
to  seize  hold  of  the  branch  it  has  reached.  A  movement 
of  the  membrane  that  gave  the  squirrel  an  additional  im- 
pulse has  been  asserted  of  this  animal,  and  the  sugges- 
tion made  that  the  first  steps  toward  the  acquirement  of 
the  flight-power  of  the  bats  had  been  taken.  This  I  will 
not  deny.  It  is  something  for  which  I  have  looked  for 


THE  FLYING-SQUIRREL.  53 

many  years,  but  have  never  as  yet  seen  any  evidence  of 
it.  I  am  glad  that  others  have  been  more  successful. 

"When  a  flight  is  about  to  be  taken,  the  body  is  drawn 
up  until  nearly  globular  in  shape,  and  then  the  membrane 
is  again  expanded  simultaneously  with  the  impetus  given 
to  the  body  by  the  powerful  hind-legs.  If  "  wingless," 
this  squirrel  would  move  quite  similarly  to  the  jumping- 
mouse  (Jaculus\  or  even  the  better  known  white-footed 
or  deer  mouse  (Hesperomys). 

In  a  recent  publication  I  find  it  stated  that  these 
squirrels  fly  "smoothly  and  swiftly  on  an  inclined  air- 
plane for  thirty,  forty,  even  fifty  yards."  This  I  consider 
an  exaggeration.  It  is  perhaps  within  bounds  to  say  that 
this  animal  can  sail  down  an  "  inclined  air-plane "  for 
thirty  yards  ;  but  it  is  very  rarely  that  they  do  so,  and  I 
believe  this  distance  is  never  exceeded.  Their  ordinary 
flights  are  about  five  to  ten  yards  in  length ;  a  distance 
that  the  common  gray  squirrel  will  clear  at  a  single  leap. 

It  is  highly  improbable  that  these  squirrels  would 
tarry  long  in  a  locality  where  the  trees  were  so  scattered 
as  to  require  longer  flights.  In  fact,  it  is  with  flying- 
squirrels,  as  with  all  creatures  possessing  some  well- 
marked  peculiarity :  the  earliest  accounts  of  the  peculiar- 
ity are  exaggerated,  and  the  inherent  love  of  the  marvel- 
ous in  man  subsequently  prevents  for  a  long  time  a 
correct  view  of  the  matter  being  acquired. 

A  word  more  concerning  this  habit  of  flying.  I  have 
twice  met  with  individuals  of  this  species  that  were 
apparently  partial  reversions  to  the  ancestral  non-flying 
squirrel.  The  membrane  extending  from  the  fore  to  the 
hind  limbs,  that  acts  as  wings,  was  scarcely  developed, 
and  the  fore  limbs  were  somewhat  stouter  than  in  the 
normal  condition.  In  their  movements,  these  squirrels 
were  more  like  the  true  Sciuridce,  but,  being  associated 


54:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

with  their  own  kind,  they  tried  to  keep  up  with  them 
and  "  fly,"  but  the  most  that  they  could  do  was  to  exe- 
cute a  very  graceful  dive.  These  two  non-flying  squir- 
rels were  both  adults  when  captured,  but  died  in  a  few 
days  after  being  caged. 

Years  of  familiar  acquaintance  with  these  squirrels 
have  not  enabled  me  to  detect  much  in  their  habits  in- 
dicative of  intelligence  ;  and  it  is  for  this  principally  that 
I  look  in  studying  animal  life.  I  feel  sorry  to  have  so 
poor  an  account  to  give  of  these  beautiful  creatures,  but 
I  am  compelled  to  say  it  of  them — they  are  not  "  smart." 
Notwithstanding  all  their  vivacity  when  in  their  native 
haunts,  and  their  eminently  gregarious  habits,  they  do 
not  suggest  by  any  of  their  movements,  so  far  as  I  could 
ever  detect,  any  decided  indication  of  that  sociability 
characteristic  of  the  ground-squirrels  or  chipmunks  (Ta- 
mias).  Each,  on  the  contrary,  jumps,  runs,  flies,  solely 
on  his  own  account,  associated  together  indeed,  but  never 
acting  in  concert.  Their  several  squeaky  cries,  too,  are 
quite  as  frequent  when  they  are  alone  as  when  associated 
with  their  fellows.  Thus,  they  are  really  devoid,  to  me 
at  least,  of  the  most  attractive  features  of  animal  life. 

Flying-squirrels  do  not  pass  into  a  prolonged  hiber- 
nating sleep,  with  the  regularity  characteristic  of  some 
other  mammals.  They  store  up  a  goodly  quantity  of 
nuts  and  acorns,  which  are  stowed  away  in  a  hollow 
of  some  large  tree ;  and  from  this  magazine  they  draw 
their  rations  pretty  regularly,  unless  the  weather  should 
be  intensely  cold.  Even  when  snow  covers  the  ground 
they  sometimes  leave  their  nests,  for  I  have  often  caught 
them,  in  January,  in  an  ordinary  box-trap  set  for  rabbits. 

Their  nests  are  often  in  one  tree,  while  their  food- 
supply  is  stored  in  another  near  by.  The  nests  are  al- 
ways abundantly  supplied  with  soft  materials,  and  some- 


THE  FLYING-SQUIRREL.  55 

times  as  many  as  a  dozen  squirrels  will  take  up  their 
winter  abode  in  one.  When  asleep,  they  appear  like 
little  furry  balls,  so  arranged  that  the  tail  is  made  to  do 
duty  both  as  a  pillow  and  coverlet ;  the  head  rests  near 
the  base  of  the  tail,  which  is  spread  over  that  side  of  the 
body  which  happens  to  be  uppermost. 

These  squirrels  have  of  late  availed  themselves  of 
conveniences  erected  by  man,  which  partially  replace  the 
heavy  growths  of  timber  that  have  so  generally  been  cut 
down.  They  now  take  up  their  abode  in  the  attics  of 
houses,  if  they  can  find  any  means  of  entrance.  Once 
established,  they  drive  the  mice  away,  but  they  are  them- 
selves so  noisy  that  the  change  seldom  proves  desirable. 
If  the  locality  does  not  meet  with  their  approbation,  they 
not  only  ramble  noisily  wherever  they  can  get,  but  quar- 
rel incessantly.  In  out-buildings,  also,  I  have  frequently 
found  them  wintering.  If  the  nest  is  in  hay  or  straw, 
they  nibble  out  a  circular  shaft  or  tunnel  leading  to  it, 
and  carry  in  an  abundant  supply  of  grain,  if  such  can  be 
had.  In  this  regard,  they  are  but  little,  if  any,  less  de- 
structive than  rats  or  mice. 

To  return  to  the  woods.  Flying-squirrels  make  very 
large  nests  of  leaves  high  up  in  the  tallest  trees,  which 
are  in  every  particular  the  same  as  the  leaf-nests  of  the 
common  gray  squirrel.  Some  of  those  that  I  have  ex- 
amined appeared  to  be  sufficiently  compact  to  withstand 
the  winter  storms,  and  were  warm  enough  to  protect  the 
squirrels  during  the  coldest  weather.  In  them,  however, 
there  were  no  stores  of  nuts  and  seeds,  so  either  the 
occupants  hibernated  the  winter  through  and  needed  no 
food,  or  they  had  magazines  near  by,  to  which  they  re- 
sorted during  spells  of  mild  weather. 

Flying-squirrels  are  now,  in  consequence  of  the  gen- 
eral destruction  of  the  heavier  growths  of  timber,  not 


56  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

numerous,  and  it  is  probable  that  they  never  were  as  abun- 
dant as  the  other  species  of  Sciuridce.  Even  so  long  ago 
as  1749,  Kalm  refers  to  them  as  "  met  with  in  the  woods, 
but  not  very  frequently  " ;  and  again,  that  they  "  are  so 
tamed  by  the  boys  that  they  sit  on  their  shoulders  and 
follow  them  everywhere." 

Gabriel  Thomas  refers  to  these  animals,  in  his  quaint 
little  history  of  New  Jersey,  as  follows  :  "  There  is  also 
that  Remarkable  Creature  the  Flying  Squirrel,  having 
a  kind  of  Skinny  "Wings,  almost  like  those  of  the  Batt, 
though  it  hath  the  like  Hair  and  Colour  of  the  Common 
Squirrel,  but  is  much  less  in  Bodily  Substance  •  I  have 
(myself)  seen  it  fly  from  one  Tree  to  another  in  the 
Woods,  but  how  long  it  can  maintain  its  Flight  is  not 
yet  exactly  known." 

The  most  interesting  feature  connected  with  the  fly- 
ing-squirrels of  this  neighborhood  is,  I  think,  the  fact 
that  they  are  slowly  adapting  themselves  to  an  altered 
environment,  as  shown  by  their  constructing  nests  of 
leaves,  which  probably,  a  century  ago,  they  did  not  do ; 
and  by  their  willingness,  so  to  speak,  to  occupy  accessible 
nooks  in  the  dwelling-houses  to  which  they  can  gain  ac- 
cess from  tall  trees  growing  sufficiently  near  to  enable 
them  to  reach  these  artificial  quarters  by  means  of  their 
limited  flight-power.  I  believe  these  squirrels  never 
take  journeys,  however  short,  by  simply  running  on  the 
ground.  Unless  they  can  pass  from  tree  to  tree  they 
stay  at  home. 

This  pretty  mammal  figures,  I  find,  in  American 
animal  weather-lore,  but  not  to  any  important  extent. 
In  "  Signal-Service  Notes,"  No.  IX,  the  compiler  of  that 
interesting  volume  writes,  "When  the  flying-squirrels 
sing  in  midwinter,  it  indicates  an  early  spring."  As  a 
lover  of  early  spring,  I  heartily  wish  this  were  true.  Ex- 


THE  FLYING-SQUIRREL.  57 

amining  the  matter  more  closely,  it  will  be  found  that 
pleasant  weather  in  midwinter,  when  squirrels  rouse  from 
their  prolonged  sleeping,  is  usually  followed  by  late 
springs ;  a  record  of  the  past  one  hundred  winters  show- 
ing clearly  that  the  more  uniformly  cold  winter  is,  the 
sooner  and  more  evenly  spring  commences.  If,  there- 
fore, these  singing-squirrels  could  be  relied  upon,  it  would 
be  as  bearers  of  unwelcome  news — that  spring  would  be 
tardy  in  arriving.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that 
all  such  "sayings,"  so  far  as  based  upon  the  habits  of 
animals,  are,  as  yet,  valueless  to  the  student  of  meteoro- 
logical science. 


CHAPTER  YIIL 

THE    CHIPMUNK. 

WITH  the  first  sweet  blossoms  of  the  Epigcea,  and 
long  before  the  foremost  warbler  greets  his  old-time  home 
with  gleesome  songs,  our  little  chipmunk  has  roused  him- 
self from  his  long  winter's  nap,  and  sniffing  the  south 
wind,  as  it  whirls  the  dead  leaves  about,  scampers  to  and 
fro  while  the  sun  shines,  and  dives  into  his  winter  quar- 
ters, it  may  be  for  a  whole  week,  if  the  north  wind 
whispers  to  the  tall  beech-trees.  But,  in  due  time,  the 
blustering  days  of  March  give  way  to  showery  April,  and 
then,  with  more  courage,  "  Chip  "  faces  the  music  of  the 
winds,  let  them  blow  as  they  list,  and,  darting  along  the 
top  rail  of  our  zigzag  fences,  he  chatters  and  scolds,  and 
calls  to  his  equally  noisy  companions.  They  know  full 
well  that  they  have  the  summer  before  them,  and,  while 
determined  to  enjoy  it,  they  begin  early  and  in  good 
earnest  to  make  arrangements  for  its  coming  duties.  I 
watched  several  pairs  of  them  from  March  to  November, 
in  1874,  and  nearly  all  of  my  observations  were  made 
at  this  time,  as  other  mammals  have  occupied  my  atten- 
tion since  then. 

Until  the  weather  became  fairly  settled  and  really 
spring-like  in  character,  these  little  chipmunks  did  not 
often  show  themselves,  and  when  they  did  it  was  only 
in  the  middle  of  the  day.  They  appeared,  to  foresee  the 
occurrence  of  a  cold  rain  some  twenty-four  hours  in  ad- 


THE  CHIPMUNK.  59 

vance  and  resumed  their  hibernating  slumbers,  becoming 
lethargic  and  very  difficult  to  arouse.  A  pair  that  I  dug 
out  in  March,  having  two  days  before  re-entered  their 
winter  quarters  and  become  quite  torpid,  were  apparently 
lifeless  when  first  taken  up  in  the  hands,  and  it  was  not 
until  after  several  hours'  warming  that  they  became  lively, 
and  altogether  like  themselves.  This  seemed  to  me  the 
more  curious,  in  that  they  can  respond  to  a  favorable 
change  in  the  weather  in  a  short  time,  even  when  the  ther- 
mometric  change  is  really  but  a  few  degrees. 

On  the  3d  of  May  a  pair  of  chipmunks  made  their 
appearance  in  the  yard  of  my  home,  and  took  up  their 
abode  in  a  stone  wall  with  a  southern  outlook,  on  the 
brow  of  a  steep  descent  of  over  seventy  feet.  This  hill- 
side or  terrace-front  is  thickly  wooded,  and  harbors  scores 
of  these  creatures,  as  well  as  many  other  small  mammals. 
From  the  fact  that  the  subterranean  homes  of  these  ani- 
mals are  said  to  be  quite  elaborate  in  structure,  I  deter- 
mined to  wait  until  the  pair  in  the  yard  had  completed 
their  excavations  in  and  under  the  stone  wall,  and  ar- 
ranged their  nest,  and  then  to  open  and  expose  the  nest 
and  its  approaches  of  another  pair,  which  was  more  ac- 
cessible, and  commenced  at  the  same  time.  This  I  did 
on  May  29th,  and  without  difficulty  determined  the  gen- 
eral character  of  the  nest  and  its  two  entrances.  The 
burrow  contained  five  young,  about  three  days  old.  The 
two  entrances  were  at  the  foot  of  a  large  beech -tree, 
standing  about  six  feet  from  the  brow  of  the  hill.  A 
little  grass  only  grew  about  the  tree,  and  the  holes  at  the 
surface  of  the  ground  were  very  conspicuous.  No  at- 
tempt at  concealment  had  been  made ;  but  this  was  evi- 
dently because  there  were  here,  at  this  time,  but  few  of 
their  many  enemies.  Indeed,  I  was  inclined  to  believe 
that  there  were  no  weasels  about,  and  these  are  the  most 


60  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

destructive  of  all  their  enemies.  The  little  weasel,  per- 
haps, is  less  prone  to  enter  their  nests  than  the  ermine ; 
and  it  is  the  former  species  which  is  the  more  frequent 
of  the  two  in  this  immediate  neighborhood ;  but  if  the 
little  weasels  chance  to  take  up  their  abode  near  by,  the 
chipmunks  soon  hie  themselves  off  to  "  fresh  fields  and 
pastures  new."  To  return  to  the  chipmunk's  nest.  The 
right-hand  entrance  to  the  nest  proper  was  nine  feet  dis- 
tant from  the  opening  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  but,  as  the 
passage  had  a  somewhat  tortuous  course,  the  tunnel  was 
really  about  twelve  feet  long.  The  nest  proper  was,  as 
near  as  I  could  determine,  about  twenty  inches  in  length, 
and  perhaps  a  foot  in  height.  It  was  lined  with  fine 
grass.  I  had  hoped  to  find  more  than  two  passages  to 
the  nest,  and  extra  cavities  or  granaries,  but  there  were 
no  traces  of  them.  These  supplementary  burrowings,  or 
"  store-houses,"  I  believe  now  are  made  quite  late  in  the 
summer,  and  are  additions  to  their  main  burrows,  made 
when  it  becomes  necessary  for  them  to  commence  storing 
up  their  winter  supply  of  food. 

One  feature  of  this  earth-nest,  and  of  all  under- 
ground retreats  of  our  mammals,  struck  me  as  very  curi- 
ous. There  was  no  evidence  of  any  caving  of  the  earth 
that  I  could  see,  or  could  I  detect  any  evidence  that 
means  had  been  taken  to  prevent  such  an  occurrence. 
The  soil  where  I  exposed  the  nest  of  the  chipmunks  was 
a  fine,  ferruginous  sand  that  caved  in  whenever  I  tried  to 
construct  a  similar  tunnel.  I  made  such  examination  of 
the  surface  of  the  burrow  as  I  could,  and  found  no  trace 
of  any  foreign  substance  that  explained  the  mystery,  for 
such  it  was  and  is  to  me. 

On  the  23d  of  June  six  young  chipmunks  made  their 
appearance  about  the  stone  wall  in  the  yard,  and  to  these, 
with  their  parents,  I  will  now  confine  my  attention.  It 


THE  CHIPMUNK.  61 

puzzles  me  even  now,  when  I  think  of  it,  to  imagine 
when  this  family  of  eight  chatter-boxes  took  any  rest 
or  kept  moderately  quiet.  Yery  frequently  during  that 
summer  (very  seldom  since)  I  was  astir  at  sunrise,  and  I 
always  found  that  these  chipmunks  were  already  on  the 
go,  and  throughout  July  they  appeared  to  do  little  but 
play  in  a  very  animated  sort  of  way.  They  seemed  to 
be  playing  at  what  children  know  as  "  tag  " — i.  e.,  they 
chased  each  other  to  and  fro  in  a  wild,  madcap  fashion, 
and  tried  to  touch  or  catch  one  another,  and  sometimes 
to  bite  one  another's  tails.  Occasionally  the  tail  of  some 
laggard  gets  a  nip,  and  he  gives  a  pitiful  squeal,  which 
starts  them  all  to  chattering.  The  way  in  which  they 
scamper  along  the  tapering  points  of  a  paling  fence  is 
simply  astonishing  ;  but,  however  mad  may  be  their  gal- 
loping, let  a  hawk  swoop  down,  or  even  pass  over,  and 
in  a  moment  every  one  is  motionless.  If  on  a  fence, 
they  simply  squat  where  they  are,  and  trust  to  luck  to 
escape  being  seen.  If  on  the  ground,  when  an  enemy  is 
discovered,  and  not  too  far  from  their  underground  nests, 
which  is  not  often  the  case,  unless  foraging,  they  will 
dart  to  these  nests  with  incredible  swiftness,  and  going,  I 
think,  the  whole  length  of  the  passage-way  to  the  nest 
proper,  they  turn  about  immediately  and  retrace  their 
steps  to  the  entrance,  from  which  they  will  peer  out,  and, 
when  the  danger  is  over,  cautiously  reappear  and  recom- 
mence their  sports.  These  creatures,  during  the  sum- 
mer, play  merely  for  play's  sake,  and  seem  to  have  no 
more  important  object  in  view  than  amusement.  Indeed, 
so  far  as  I  have  studied  animal  life,  this  indulgence  in 
play,  just  as  children  play,  and  for  the  same  reasons,  is 
common  to  all  animals.  I  have  often  seen  most  animated 
movements  on  the  part  of  fishes  that  could,  I  think,  be 
only  referred  to  this  cause.  Frogs,  perhaps,  in  this  re- 


62  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

spect  are  the  nearest  to  being  old  fogies,  as  I  never  could 
detect  anything  on  their  part  that  the  most  vivid  imagi- 
nation could  construe  into  "  having  fun." 

About  August  15th  these  chipmunks,  and  all  the 
others  in  the  neighborhood,  appeared  to  settle  down  to 
work  in  "real  earnest."  Instead  of  playful,  careless 
creatures,  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  they  became  sober 
and  seemed  very  busy.  Instead  of  keeping  comparatively 
near  home,  they  wandered  off  quite  a  distance  for  them, 
and  filling  both  cheek-pouches  full  of  corn,  or  later  in 
the .  year,  with  chincapins  and  acorns,  home  they  would 
march,  looking,  in  the  face,  like  children  with  the 
mumps.  How  much  they  can  carry  at  one  time,  in  their 
cheek-pouches,  I  know,  from  actual  measurement,  but 
am  afraid  to  say,  as  the  statement  would  be  "  hard  to 
swallow,"  and  so  the  inquisitive  reader  may  determine 
the  matter  to  his  own  satisfaction. 

This  habit  of  storing  up  quantities  of  food  against  the 
coming  winter  was  continued,  in  this  case,  and  I  suppose 
it  is  so  generally,  until  the  first  heavy  white  frosts,  when 
the  chipmunks  give  up  to  a  great  degree  their  out-door 
life.  The  food  thus  gathered,  usually  nuts  and  corn,  is, 
I  believe,  partly  consumed  when  they  go  into  winter 
quarters,  and  before  they  begin  their  hibernating  sleep, 
which  may  not  be  for  some  time.  This  impression  is 
based  on  the  result  of  digging  out  a  nest  as  late  as  the 
3d  of  November.  The  last  time  I  had  seen  a  chip- 
munk belonging  to  this  nest  was  October  22d.  Twelve 
days  after,  I  very  carefully  closed  the  three  passages  that 
led  to  it,  and  calculating  about  where  the  nest  was,  I  dug 
down  until  I  came  upon  it.  I  found  four  chipmunks 
very  cozily  fixed  for  winter,  in  a  roomy  compartment, 
and  all  of  them  thoroughly  wide  awake.  Their  store  of 
provisions  was  in  a  smaller  room  or  store-house  immedi- 


THE  CHIPMUNK.  63 

ately  adjoining,  and  consisted  wholly  of  chestnuts  and 
acorns  ;  and  the  shells  of  such  of  these  nuts  as  had  been 
eaten  were  all  pushed  into  one  of  the  passages,  so  that 
there  might  be  no  litter  mingled  with  the  soft  materials 
that  lined  the  nest.  How  long  this  underground  life 
lasts,  before  hibernation  really  commences,  it  is  difficult 
to  determine ;  but  as  the  torpid  state  does  not  continue 
until  their  food-supply  is  again  obtainable  out-of-doors, 
the  chipmunks,  no  doubt,  store  away  sufficient  food  for 
their  needs  throughout  the  early  spring. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WILD-MICE. 

I  HAVE  often  felt  sore  because  I  could  never  find  a 
shrew  in  any  of  my  rambles.  I  have  knocked  over  hun- 
dreds of  mice,  in  hopes  of  finding  one  with  a  pointed 
snout  and  a  slender  tail,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  There 
are  shrews  in  my  meadows,  I  am  confident.  Indeed, 
others  have  found  them ;  but  in  twenty  years'  search  I 
have  never  seen  one.  But  if  not  a  shrew,  I  have  seen 
mice  in  abundance — mice  big  and  fat;  mice  lean  and 
small,  and  middle-sized  mice;  mice  that  were  ill-tem- 
pered and  would  bite ;  others  that  were  gentle,  and  took 
pleasure  in  nestling  in  the  hollow  of  your  hand.  Some- 
times I  would  fill  my  pockets  with  them,  or  tie  up  a 
dozen  in  my  handkerchief,  and  then,  reaching  home, 
would  let  them  loose  in  a  box,  and  sit  down  gravely  to 
"  determine  the  species."  I  would  have  De  Kay's  tomes 
before  me,  and  Coues's  and  Allen's  bulky  quarto  on  "  Ro- 
dentia,"  and  Jordan's  "  Manual,"  and  the  mice,  and  I 
would  work  by  the  hour,  and  pinch  their  tails  and  squint 
at  their  teeth  and  twist  their  toes,  but  it  mattered  not,  all 
my  labor  and  all  my  specimens  simmered  down  to  one 
poor  meadow-mouse.  I  have  tried  to  twist  their  hair 
and  curl  their  whiskers,  and  lengthen  their  ears  by  a  sly 
pull  with  the  tweezers,  but  it  was  of  no  avail — there  was 
only  the  one  species,  and  I  could  not  make  a  second,  al- 
though I  have  tried  very  hard  and  very  often. 


WILD-MICE.  65 

If,  however,  there  is  but  the  one  mouse  in  our  mead- 
ows, it  is  not  so  devoid  of  interest  as  might  be  thought, 
from  the  fact  that  it  elicits  generally  no  further  remark 
than  that  "  it  is  nothing  but  a  meadow-mouse." 

Let  us  see  what  constitutes  a  meadow-mouse.  As 
a  furry  entity  dwelling  in  a  bunch  of  grass  and  living 
on  the  seeds  thereof,  he  is  monotony  itself;  but  some- 
times, as  I  have  found,  there  is  a  variation  from  this  pro- 
saic style  of  keeping  house,  and  then  the  despised  mead- 
ow-mouse is  a  creature  of  decided  interest. 

For  instance,  I  find  in  my  note-books,  under  date  of 
May  23,  1882,  that  in  wandering  along  the  margin  of  a 
low  or  "mucky"  meadow,  I  came  across  a  large  but 
thoroughly  rotted  log.  On  giving  the  log  a  kick  and  a 
push  with  my  cane,  I  saw  that  I  had  disturbed  a  whole 
host  of  creatures  of  various  kinds.  A  meadow-mouse 
ran  into  the  reeds  near  by,  a  swarm  of  black  ants  covered 
one  end  of  the  log,  while  untold  thousands  of  red  ants 
covered  the  other,  and  finally  a  white -footed  mouse 
showed  itself  through  a  knot-hole  and  scampered  off 
with  a  squeak.  Seeing  this  much  at  a  preliminary  glance 
of  the  rotten  log,  I  forthwith  instituted  a  detailed  exami- 
nation, with  the  following  results :  Between  the  semi-de- 
tached bark  and  the  log  itself  there  was  a  neatly-made 
nest  of  long  grasses  occupied  by  the  white-footed  mice. 
There  they  resorted  when  not  foraging,  and  had  every- 
thing cozily  arranged  for  future  contingencies.  I  was  very 
sorry  that  I  had  so  rudely  upset  their  plans,  as  Mrs. 
"White-foot  was  evidently  in  an  interesting  condition.  In 
the  center  of  the  decayed  log,  a  family  of  meadow-mice 
had  constructed  a  very  elaborate  home.  There  were 
three  well-made  tunnels  leading  to  an  interior  chamber, 
which  was  of  sufficient  size  to  accommodate  a  dozen  mice 
without  crowding.  This  nest  or  "  room  "  was  partly 


66  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

filled  with  fine  hay  and  a  few  very  small  feathers.  There 
were  no  young  mice,  however.  The  three  exits  were  of 
sufficient  size  to  admit  of  the  rapid  passage  of  a  mouse,  say 
about  one  and  a  half  inches  in  diameter.  Although  the 
wood  was  very  rotten  and  yielded  to  the  gentlest  touch, 
yet  the  sides  of  these  tunnels  were  beautifully  intact  and 
as  smooth  as  a  carefully  bored  hole  in  hard  wood. 
While  much  interested  in  the  fact  that  two  very  distinct 
species  of  mice  should  occupy  quarters  in  such  close  prox- 
imity— the  two  nests  being  less  than  a  foot  apart — I  was 
more  struck  with  the  fact  that  there  should  be  also  two 
colonies  of  ants  in  the  same  log.  One  colony  of  large 
black  ants,  nearly  half  an  inch  long,  had  an  extensive  se- 
ries of  tunnels,  chambers,  and  anterooms  built  in  one  end 
of  the  log,  and  in  some  of  the  apartments  were  numbers 
of  large  white  larvae.  The  mice,  both  meadow  and 
white-footed,  were  near  at  hand,  all  day  and  every  night, 
and  notwithstanding  the  tempting  morsels  in  the  shape 
of  the  larvae  I  have  mentioned,  the  mice  did  not  appear 
to  have  disturbed  the  ants  at  all.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  legions  of  black  ants  at  one  end  of  the  log  might  read- 
ily have  taken  possession  of  the  nests  of  the  mice,  yet  I 
did  not  see  a  trace  of  an  ant  in  either  nest.  Then,  at 
the  other  end  of  the  log,  six  feet  away,  were  these  mi- 
nute red  ants  by  millions.  These  might  also  have  proved 
a  formidable  foe  to  the  mice,  yet  they,  too,  seemed  will- 
ing to  remain  within  bounds,  and  not  a  sign  of  them 
was  to  be  found  in  the  nest  of  either  species  of  mouse. 

Some  years  ago  a  freshet  floated  a  few  half-rotted 
logs  into  a  stretch  of  low,  swampy  meadow,  near  my 
house,  and  in  these  logs  colonies  of  meadow-mice  took 
up  their  abodes.  They  were  regularly  bored  and  tun- 
neled, just  as  so  much  firm  earth  might  have  been.  In 


WILD-MICE.  67 

each  was  a  large  central  chamber  or  nest,  thus  showing  an 
adaptation  to  circumstances  which  greatly  interested  me. 

The  food-supply  in  the  meadow  evidently  was  abun- 
dant, hence  these  mice  remained;  but  the  ground  was 
too  wet  to  admit  of  underground  retreats,  so  these  half- 
rotten  logs  had  been  utilized,  and  proved  in  every  way 
adapted  to  their  wants.  I  could  not  determine  what 
constituted  the  food  of  these  mice,  but  suppose  it  to  have 
been,  in  part,  seeds  of  the  reeds  and  coarse  grasses ;  and 
it  is  not  improbable,  when  these  were  not  obtainable,  that 
they  fed  upon  animal  food.  My  attention  was  called  to 
the  probability  of  this,  from  the  fact  that  at  every  low 
tide  many  very  small  fishes  were  left  in  little  puddles, 
and  as  these  nearly  dried  away  before  the  tide  returned, 
it  was  practicable  for  the  mice  to  have  caught  these  fishes. 
Although  I  have  often  watched  for  some  evidence  of 
this,  I  never  saw  a  mouse  go  a-fishing;  but  then  this 
proves  nothing,  for  these  meadow-mice  are  far  more 
active  by  night  than  by  day,  and  when  I  was  away  they 
could  readily  have  caught  an  abundance  of  these  fishes. 

Unless  the  weather  is  extremely  cold,  the  meadow- 
mice  do  not  hibernate.  They  simply  prepare  for  cold 
snaps  by  making  roomy  subterranean  chambers,  and  line 
them  with  fine  grasses.  From  these  they  sally  forth  at 
midday,  if  there  is  any  sunshine,  and  find  plenty  of  food 
in  the  seeds  of  the  rank  grass-growths  that  surround  their 
chosen  haunts.  The  food  that  they  store  for  winter  use 
is  inconsiderable,  and  probably  is  consumed  soon  after  it 
is  placed  in  the  magazines.  Of  course,  I  am  speaking 
only  of  the  mice  as  I  have  observed  them  in  the  neigh- 
boring meadows. 

Of  our  few  remaining  mammals,  perhaps  none  have 
suffered  less  from  the  encroachment  of  man  than  the 


68  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

beautiful  white-footed  mouse.  The  fact  that  this  little 
creature  is  a  mouse,  and  you  can  not  make  anything  else 
out  of  it,  is  certainly  very  much  to  its  disadvantage. 
Could  we  but  call  it  by  some  other  name,  many  would 
feel  that  interest  in  it  which  it  really  deserves.  Being 
a  mouse  it  is  passed  by  all  unheeded,  or  else  cruelly  pur- 
sued with  all  the  alacrity  that  the  good  housewife  displays 
in  chasing  down  a  too  daring  Mus  musculus. 

White-footed  mice  are  nocturnal  in  their  habits,  but, 
like  all  the  night-loving  mammals,  they  are  frequently 
astir  during  the  day,  and  do  not  seem  to  be  greatly  in- 
convenienced by  the  glare  of  the  midday  sun. 

In  my  neighborhood  these  mice  are  very  abundant, 
and  I  have  taken  especial  care  to  watch  for  them,  and 
study  their  ways  whenever  I  could,  but  in  spite  of  all  my 
efforts  I  never  could  detect  any  peculiarly  interesting 
feature  in  their  habits,  or  catch  a  glimpse  of  something 
I  had  not  anticipated.  Our  knowledge  of  the  habits  of 
most  of  our  mammals  is  still  incomplete.  Something 
novel  may  at  any  time  be  expected ;  but,  lively  and  musi- 
cal as  is  the  white-footed  mouse,  it  differs  but  little  from 
the  prosiest  mouse  in  your  cupboard,  so  far  as  its  habits 
are  concerned. 

Nevertheless,  their  manner  is  attractive,  and  reminds 
one  of  a  flying-squirrel,  perhaps,  more  than  anything 
nearer  akin  to  it.  "When  the  nest  is  built  in  a  tangled 
thicket  of  briers,  as  is  sometimes  the  case,  or  the  animal 
has  chanced  to  occupy  an  old  bird's  nest,  little  white-foot 
clambers  about  these  briers  with  astonishing  ease.  How 
it  escapes  the  thorns,  I  can  not  imagine.  Having  found 
a  nest,  an  excellent  method  of  making  them  display  their 
scansorial  ability  is  to  quietly  place  a  dead  snake  near 
by,  and  then  give  the  mice  a  shaking  up.  The  moment 
they  spy  that  snake,  they  leave  for  parts  unknown  with 


WILD-MICE.  69 

such  alacrity  that  even  the  direction  they  take  can  not 
always  be  satisfactorily  ascertained.  Leaving  the  dead 
snake,  however,  does  not  prevent  their  return,  for  soon 
they  will  come  creeping  cautiously  along  the  briers,  as 
slowly  as  possible,  and  evidently  reconnoitring.  If  they 
are  satisfied  that  the  snake  is  motionless,  they  will  creep 
very  near,  thus  braving  a  great  deal,  especially  if  their 
nest  contains  young.  Perhaps  half  an  hour  may  pass, 
but  they  gradually  determine  that  the  snake  is  dead,  and 
then  they  slip  cautiously  back  to  their  nest.  If  the  snake 
is  left,  their  fear  wholly  vanishes  by  the  next  day ;  and 
the  chances  are,  if  you  revisit  the  nest,  you  will  see  them 
dining  off  the  reptile. 

In  autumn,  white-footed  mice  store  up  nearly  as  great 
a  bulk  of  nuts  and  grain  as  the  chipmunk,  and  build  cozy 
nests  near  these  magazines.  Usually  there  is  an  under- 
ground passage  connecting  the  two,  unless  the  nest  is 
under  a  log  or  stump.  During  winter  these  mice  take 
very  protracted  naps ;  but  they  are  supposed  not  to  hiber- 
nate. Now  the  distinction  between  sleeping,  often  over 
a  period  of  four  weeks,  without  once  awaking,  and  true 
hibernation,  is  one  that  I  fail  to  comprehend.  Notwith- 
standing the  very  extensive  magazines  filled  with  choice 
food,  gathered  by  these  mice,  they  do  not  make  any 
marked  inroad  upon  them  during  the  winter,  and  so,  if 
much  of  the  time  awake,  they  must  have  but  very  poor 
appetites.  Time  and  again  I  have  opened  their  granaries 
in  February  and  March,  and  found  them  nearly  or  quite 
undisturbed.  Perhaps  they  had  other  stores  of  food, 
which  had  been  opened  during  the  winter,  but  I  think 
not;  and  I  know  very  well  that  these  mice  are  nearly 
twice  as  heavy  in  May  as  in  March,  when  "they  are  poor 
as  snakes." 

If  the  weather  be  warm,  about  April  1st  they  are  fully 


70  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

themselves  again,  and  ready  to  commence  their  round  of 
summer  life  with  all  the  responsibilities  that  "house- 
keeping "  entails ;  and  then  it  is,  after  a  long  season  of 
comparative  fasting,  when  the  supply  is  scarcest,  that 
they  have  need  of  food,  .and,  in  order  to  recruit'  their 
energies,  I  have  found  that  this  mouse  has  decided  car- 
nivorous habits.  While  by  no  means  as  bloody  as  a 
weasel,  or  fierce  as  a  brown  rat,  it  nevertheless  does  not 
hesitate  to  attack  a  weaker  brother,  and  it  is  really  a 
skillful  hunter  of  birds'  nests,  the  contents  of  which, 
whether  eggs  or  young,  it  feasts  upon  with  great  relish. 
Several  times  I  have  known  them  to  rob  the  nests  of 
robins,  song-sparrows,  and  the  chewink  or  swamp-robin. 
In  one  instance,  a  brood  of  young  robins,  nearly  old 
enough  to  leave  the  nest,  were  attacked  by  a  pair  of  these 
mice,  during  the  brief  absence  of  the  parent  birds,  and 
two  of  them  were  killed.  Carefully  keeping  watch,  I 
found  that  as  soon  as  the  old  birds  retired  from  the  nest, 
to  answer  the  calls  of  two  of  the  young  birds  which  were 
on  the  ground,  the  mice  stole  back  to  the  nest  and  began 
eating  the  young  birds  they  had  killed.  As  soon  as  dis- 
covered by  the  parent  birds,  they  were  forced  to  beat  a 
retreat,  but  they  invariably  returned  when  the  oppor- 
tunity offered,  until  the  dead  birds  were  nearly  devoured. 
Another  and  much  rarer  species  of  mouse,  the  pretty 
kangaroo  or  jumping-mouse,  merits  our  attention ;  and 
I  only  regret  my  opportunities  for  observing  it  have  been 
so  few  and  unsatisfactory.  This  little  mammal — not  a 
true  mouse,  by-the-way — is  not  unlike  the  preceding  in 
its  habits,  though  he  is  easily  distinguished  by  the  won- 
derful leaps  he  takes  when  pursued.  From  the  few  ob- 
servations I  have  been  able  to  make,  this  jactatorial 
locomotion  is  not  its  ordinary  method  of  traveling.  Al- 
though its  fore-limbs  are  so  short,  it  scrambles  over  the 


WILD-MICE.  71 

ground  with  as  much  ease  and  rapidity  as  other  mice. 
If  pursued,  however,  and  extra  speed  is  required,  then 
its  whole  manner  is  changed,  and  it  seems  quite  like  an- 
other animal.  It  takes  enormous  leaps,  one  after  another, 
with  great  rapidity,  and,  when  the  conditions  are  favor- 
able, it  distances  most  of  its  pursuers.  Remarkable  as 
are  the  leaps  made  by  this  mouse,  I  have  never  seen  them 
clear  "  five  or  six  feet  at  every  spring,"  as  described  by 
Godman.  Without  the  means  of  determining  this  point, 
I  should  judge  that  one  half  that  distance  was  more 
nearly  correct.  Here,  perhaps,  it  is  legitimate  to  ask  the 
question,  Has  their  jumping  power  at  all  decreased  ?  It 
is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  such  should  be  the 
case,  if  the  habit  of  jumping  arose  from  the  necessity  of 
eluding  certain  enemies  which  do  not  now  exist  in  as 
great  numbers  as  formerly.  Certainly,  at  present,  in  this 
neighborhood,  these  mice  have  no  more  enemies  than 
the  white-footed  or  the  meadow  mice,  nor  are  they  ap- 
parently any  more  secure  from  the  attacks  of  these  ene- 
mies, because  they  can  jump  a  little  faster  than  the  others 
can  run. 

Godman  remarks  of  this  animal :  "At  the  commence- 
ment of  cool  weather,  or  about  the  time  the  frost  sets  in, 
the  jumping-mice  go  into  their  winter-quarters,  where 
they  remain  in  a  torpid  state  until  the  last  of  May  or  1st 
of  June.  They  are  dug  up  sometimes  during  winter 
from  a  depth  of  twenty  inches,  being  curiously  disposed 
in  a  ball  of  clay  about  an  inch  thick,  and  so  completely 
coiled  into  a  globular  form  as  to  conceal  the  figure  of  the 
animal  entirely."  My  own  observations  have  not  been 
in  accordance  with  the  above,  so  far  as  the  "ball  of 
clay  "  is  concerned.  Such  as  I  have  found  had  well-built 
nests  of  fine  grass  and  bits  of  hornets'  nests,  placed  in  a 


72  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

roomy  underground  chamber,  usually  so  situated  as  not 
to  be  exposed  to  excessive  dampness. 

Its  hibernation  is  certainly  much  more  profound  than 
that  of  the  white-footed  mouse,  which  voluntarily  rouses 
from  its  winter  slumbers;  furthermore,  the  jumping- 
mouse  does  not  hoard  grain,  as  does  the  latter. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MUSK-EATS   AND   SQUIRRELS   AS   WEATHER-PROPHETS. 

THE  musk-rat  is  too  well  known  to  require  any  par- 
ticular account  of  its  daily  habits ;  although  there  is  al- 
ways something  to  be  learned  about  any  and  all  animals. 

Having  successfully  withstood  the  encroachments  of 
man,  and  indeed  having  often  been  benefited  by  its  abil- 
ity to  utilize  the  constructions  of  man,  such  as  the  banks 
of  canals  and  ditches,  the  musk-rat  is  now  about  as  abun- 
dant as  ever,  and  thrives  in  spite  of  constant  persecution, 
not  alone  in  retired  situations,  but  often  within  the  very 
limits  of  our  cities. 

As  to  their  numbers  now,  when  compared  with  a 
century  ago,  there  is  probably  some  slight  decrease,  but 
it  is  not  much.  Kami  (174:9)  says,  "  The  Swedes  asserted 
that  they  could  never  observe  a  diminution  in  their  num- 
ber, but  believed  that  they  were  as  numerous  at  present 
as  formerly."  They  were  hunted  then  quite  as  persist- 
ently as  at  present ;  and  possibly  even  more  so,  as  their 
fur  was  more  in  demand. 

But  well  and  accurately  known  as  the  musk-rat  is  to 
many,  there  is  still  a  very  prevalent  misconception  in  the 
minds  of  people  generally  with  reference  to  certain  of  its 
habits,  and  particularly  to  those  referring  to  its  winter  life. 
In  calling  attention,  then,  to  its  winter  haunts  and  habits, 
there  will  occur  a  fitting  opportunity  of  correcting  certain 
distorted  facts  and  curious  fancies,  not  only  about  this 
4 


T4  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

animal,  but  also  in  relation  to  the  great  majority  of  our 
mammals. 

Besides  the  extensive  burrows  in  which,  during  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  the  musk-rats  live,  they  often 
erect,  in  autumn,  quite  elaborate  structures,  in  swampy 
ground,  or  occasionally  in  shallow  and  quiet  waters,  when 
they  can  find  safe  anchorage,  as  for  instance  to  a  stump. 
These  winter-houses,  as  they  are  usually  called,  are  coni- 
cal in  shape,  and  generally  about  three  feet  in  diameter, 
at  the  base,  and  two  or  three  feet  in  height.  The  mate- 
rials used  in  their  construction  are  long,  coarse  grass,  bul- 
rushes, twigs,  and  some  of  the  larger  limbs  of  shrubs.  I 
have  never  discovered  any  evidence  that,  beaver-like, 
they  gnaw  off  saplings  of  water-birch  for  the  purpose  of 
using  them  in  house-building,  but  that  they  do  so,  at 
times,  has  been  asserted  by  many.  The  materials  gath- 
ered are  closely  cemented  with  stiff,  clayey  mud,  which 
the  musk-rats  procure  from  the  beds  of  streams,  often 
burrowing  beneath  the  sandy  superstratum  to  secure  it 
of  the  proper  consistency.  "When  sun-dried,  these  struct- 
ures are  very  strong  and  will  bear  the  weight  of  a  full- 
grown  man.  The  walls  are  generally  about  six  inches  in 
thickness,  and  are  very  difficult  to  pull  to  pieces.  The 
interior  consists  of  a  single  circular  chamber,  with  a  floor 
that  is  ingeniously  supported  on  coarse  sticks  driven  into 
the  mud,  after  the  manner  of  piles,  and  among  them  are 
laid  horizontally  many  others,  thus  making  a  strong  but 
open  foundation,  upon  which  are  placed  small  twigs,  stiff 
mud,  and  over  all  a  layer  of  soft  grasses.  This  interior 
is  arranged  after  the  dome  is  completed.  In  the  center 
of  the  floor  is  an  opening,  leading  by  several,  often  six 
or  eight,  diverging  paths,  below  the  water-level,  and 
extending  to  the  nearest  higher  or  comparatively  drier 
ground.  Through  these  the  musk-rats  make  their  escape, 


MUSK-EATS  AND  SQUIRRELS.  75 

if  the  home  be  disturbed ;  and  it  is  only  by  first  discover- 
ing these  paths  and  blocking  them,  or  by  closing  the  one 
exit  at  the  base  of  the  house  from  which  the  paths  start, 
that  it  becomes  possible  to  secure  all  the  occupants  of 
one  of  these  winter  nests  or  homes.  While  the  exterior 
of  these  structures  is  quite  irregular  and  apparently  rudely 
or  carelessly  put  together,  it  is  evident  that  this  exterior 
is  designedly  arranged  in  this  manner  to  make  the  home 
appear  like  a  stranded  bunch  of  trash,  transported  thither 
during  some  sudden  rise  and  overflow  of  the  stream,  or 
some  filling  up  of  the  swamp,  as  the  case  may  be.  The 
interior,  however,  of  these  structures  is  usually  neatly 
furnished  and  smoothed,  and  with  its  lining  of  soft  ma- 
terials, the  entire  structure  bears  no  little  resemblance  to 
an  enormous  bird's  nest  turned  upside  down. 

Even  more  than  in  the  case  of  birds'  nests,  however, 
there  is  a  great  deal  of  variation  among  these  structures, 
and  the  above  description  of  a  typical  nest  is  taken  from 
my  notes  of  two  such  structures  which  were  carefully  ex- 
amined in  the  winter  of  1880-'81.  I  have  in  this  descrip- 
tion made  use  of  the  best  features  of  the  two  nests  or 
homes,  and  given  a  fair  idea  of  what  the  structure  is,  when 
every  condition  is  such  as  the  musk-rat  desires.  Like 
birds,  however,  they  have  usually  some  objectionable  fea- 
ture to  contend  with,  and  hence  they  never  erect  pre- 
cisely such  a  home  as  they  are  capable  of  constructing. 

Now  these  nests  are  not  built  every  year,  by  any  means. 
In  the  same  locality,  near  my  home,  where  a  colony  of 
musk-rats  have  good  quarters  and  a  comparatively  easy 
time,  these  animals  one  year  content  themselves  simply 
with  their  burrows  in  the  higher  ground  that  bounds  the 
wet  or  "  mucky  "  meadow  ;  and  the  next  year  they  erect 
one  or  more  of  these  dome-shaped  houses.  I  had  long  no- 
ticed this  irregularity,  and  having  mentioned  it  at  various 


76  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

times  to  trappers  and  the  "old  folks"  of  the  neighborhood, 
was  in  every  instance  assured  that,  when  no  such  houses 
were  built  in  the  fall,  the  winter  would  be  very  "open" 
or  mild,  and  vice  versa.  In  other  words,  the  power  of  fore- 
telling the  character  of  the  coming  winter  was  ascribed 
to  the  musk-rat  by  these  trappers  and  old  folks  generally, 
who  are  popularly  supposed  to  have  gained  much  accu- 
rate knowledge  from  long  observation.  "  Nature,"  indeed, 
"is  an  admirable  school-mistress,"  but  careless  scholars 
do  not  do  her  justice.  I  was  the  more  surprised  at  this, 
too,  because  I  have  found  that  these  same  people  can 
generally  give  us  more  accurate  details  of  the  habits  of 
our  animals  than,  are  found  in  the  books. 

Having  my  doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  this,  as  well  as 
other  "common  impressions,"  I  have  for  many  years 
tested  the  matter,  and  noted  down  in  what  years  houses 
were  built  in  the  same  localities,  and  when  none  were 
erected.  The  result  was  about  as  I  expected.  In  the 
majority  of  instances  it  proved  to  be  precisely  the  reverse 
of  what  I  had  been  told.  As  an  example  of  this,  take 
the  two  winters,  18T9-'80  and  1880-'81.  The  former 
was  very  mild  and  spring-like,  and  numerous  large  houses 
were  built ;  during  the  succeeding  autumn,  in  the  same 
locality,  none  were  erected ;  and  the  character  of  the 
winter  was  precisely  the  opposite  of  the  preceding  one. 
Now,  the  musk-rats  were  here  all  winter,  just  the  same, 
but  they  lived  in  their  subterranean  homes.  The  records 
of  the  past  twenty  years,  in  fact,  clearly  show  that  the 
"  common  impression  "  should  be  reversed,  if  it  be  true 
that  there  is  a  ghost  of  a  connection  between  the  custom 
of  erecting  these  conical  houses  in  autumn  and  the  char- 
acter of  the  coming  winter. 

"Why  these  winter-dwellings  are  not  always  erected,  is 
not  easy  to  determine  ;  nor  do  plausible  explanations  sug- 


MUSK-EATS  AND  SQUIRRELS.  77 

gest  themselves.  That  it  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
their  food-supply  in  winter  is  probable,  and  there  may 
be  some  connection  between  the  habits  and  the  general 
condition  of  the  springs  and  the  abundance  of  surface 
water.  I  have  thought  that  when  the  springs  were  "up" 
and  the  swamps  full,  in  autumn,  these  houses  were  more 
likely  to  be  built,  and  vice  versa;  but  I  have  noticed 
several  exceptions,  and  do  not  feel  assured  that  I  am  right 
in  my  surmise.  At  all  events,  there  is  no  reasonable 
ground  whatever  upon  which  to  base  the  assumption  that 
musk-rats  can  foretell  meteorological  changes,  beyond  such 
as  may  occur  within  twenty-four  or  thirty-six  hours.  Far 
be  it  from  me  to  deprive  any  of  our  mammals  of  all  due 
credit !  On  the  contrary,  my  whole  sympathy  is  with 
that  view  of  their  origin  and  of  man's  that  gives  the  same 
powers,  but  in  different  degrees,  to  them  and  myself  ;  but 
there  is  as  yet  nothing  discovered  in  the  life  of  a  musk-rat 
that  even  vaguely  hints  at  the  possibility  of  a  prophetic 
power  beyond  the  capabilities  of  any  ordinary  weather- 
witch. 

Let  us  now  consider,  in  this  connection,  the  habit  of 
many  mammals  of  storing  away  quantities  of  food  for 
winter  use.  As  the  musk-rat  does  not  hibernate,  and  is 
not  affected  in  its  movements  by  the  severity  of  winter 
weather,  it  requires  no  such  magazines  of  supplies,  and 
consequently  has  none.  The  winter-houses  it  erects  have 
a  bearing,  I  doubt  not,  upon  the  food-supply,  which  is 
probably  more  accessible  from  these  structures  than  from 
their  ordinary  burrows.  On  the  other  hand,  many  mam- 
mals have  but  one  class  of  retreat,  summer  and  winter, 
and  these  gather  in  autumn,  for  winter  use,  enormous 
quantities  of  nuts  and  seeds,  which  are  their  sole  depend- 
ence. Now,  the  same  question  arises  here  as  in  the  case 
of  the  musk-rat:  Have  these  "harvesting"  animals  any 


78  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

means  or  power  of  foretelling  the  character  of  a  coming 
winter;  and  do  they  differ  in  the  habit  of  storing  up 
food,  to  an  extent  commensurate  with  the  great  varia- 
bility of  the  winters  ?  For  if  a  winter  is  steadily  cold  and 
prolonged,  as  was  that  of  1880— '81,  the  time  passed  in 
slumber  will  be  equally  extended,  and  a  much  less  quan- 
tity of  food  will  be  consumed.  If,  however,  the  weather 
is  as  mild  as  the  winter  of  18T9-'80,  then  these  animals 
will  be  quite  active  much  of  the  time,  and  of  course  con- 
sume a  larger  amount  of  food.  This  was  the  case  in  the 
winter  last  mentioned  with  both  the  gray  squirrels  and 
the  chipmunks,  and  I  venture  to  state  that  there  was  no 
more  food  stored  the  preceding  autumn  than  in  the  fall 
of  1880,  when  winter  set  in  about  November  25th.  It  is 
also  probable  that  no  food  whatever  was  consumed  during 
the  three  winter  months  that  followed,  yet  I  am  assured 
that  the  amount  of  food  stored  by  these  animals  does  vary, 
and  that  when  much  is  stored,  the  winter  will  be  severe, 
and  vice  versa.  This  shows  not  only  great  ignorance  of 
the  habits  of  common  animals,  but  the  illogical  position 
of  those  that  so  confidently  make  the  assertion  is  evident 
from  the  fact  that  if  the  weather  is  mild  and  the  animals 
awake,  then  the  greater  supply  of  food  is,  of  course,  re- 
quired ;  for  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  amount  of 
foraging  in  mild  weather  is  so  little  that  it  does  not  be- 
come an  important  factor  in  this  question. 

The  habit,  per  se,  of  storing  food  for  winter  use  is 
beyond  dispute,  and  it  now  behooves  us  to  consider  the 
variability  of  this  practice  and  to  seek  the  explanation  of 
the  fact  that  more  food  is  stored  some  winters  than  others. 
It  can  scarcely  be  ascertained  when  and  how  the  habit  of 
storing  food  for  winter  use  was  acquired.  Doubtless  it 
dates  back  as  far  as  the  glacial  period,  but  this  does  not 
concern  us.  What  of  the  habit  as  it  exists  to-dav  ? 


MUSK-RATS  AND  SQUIRRELS.  79 

First,  let  us  glance  at  the  subject  of  our  climate  as  it  is, 
and  as  it  was  some  two  centuries  ago.  Kalm  says  that, 
"  desirous  of  hearing  from  the  old  Swedes,  who  have  lived 
longest  in  this  country,  and  have  been  inhabitants  of  this 
place  "  (Raccoon,  in  Swedesboro,  Southern  New  Jersey) 
"  during  the  whole  time  of  the  change  mentioned,  whether 
the  present  state  of  the  weather  was  in  some  particulars 
remarkably  different  from  that  which  they  felt  in  their 
younger  years,  the  following  is  an  account  which  they 
all  unanimously  gave  me  in  answer  to  this  question  : 

"  The  winter  came  sooner  formerly  than  it  does  now 
(1749).  Mr.  Isaac  Morris,  a  wealthy  merchant,  .  .  .  con- 
firmed this  by  a  particular  account.  His  father,  one  of 
the  first  English  merchants  in  this  country,  observed 
that  in  his  younger  years  (about  1690),  the  river  Delaware 
was  commonly  covered  with  ice  about  the  middle  of  No- 
vember, old  style,  so  that  the  merchants  were  obliged  to 
bring  down  their  ships  in  great  haste,  before  that  time, 
for  fear  of  their  being  obliged  to  lie  by  all  winter.  On 
the  contrary,  this  river  seldom  freezes  over  at  present  be- 
fore the  middle  of  December,  old  style. 

"  It  snowed  much  more  in  winter,  formerly,  than  it 
now  does  (1749) ;  but  the  weather  in  general  was  likewise 
more  constant  and  uniform,  and  when  the  cold  set  in  it 
continued  to  the  end  of  February  or  till  March,  old  style, 
when  it  commonly  began  to  grow  warm.  At  present  it 
is  warm,  even  the  very  next  day  after  a  severe  cold, 
and  sometimes  the  weather  changes  several  times  a 
day. 

"  Most  of  the  old  people  here  were  of  opinion  that 
spring  came  much  later  at  present  than  formerly,  and  that 
it  was  now  much  colder  in  the  latter  end  of  February, 
and  the  whole  month  of  March,  than  when  they  were 
young.  Formerly  the  fields  were  as  green  and  the  air  as 


80  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

warm  toward  the  end  of  February,  as  it  is  now  in  March, 
or  in  the  beginning  of  April" 

It  can  scarcely  be  said  that  any  change  has  taken  place 
during  the  one  hundred  and  thirty  years  since  the  above 
was  written,  except  that  the  snow-fall  has  much  decreased. 
This  has  not  arisen  from  a  warmer  temperature,  and  a 
consequent  change  to  rain-fall  instead  of  snow,  but  is  an 
absolute  decrease  in  precipitation.  There  is  certainly  con- 
siderable evidence  to  show  that  this  corner  of  the  world  is 
slowly  drying  up,  even  if  the  globe,  as  a  whole,  is  not. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  what  the  same  writer  says  of  the 
gray  squirrels.  He  writes  :  "  The  squirrels  gather  great 
stores  for  winter,  which  they  lay  up  in  holes  dug  by  them 
for  that  purpose ;  they  likewise  carry  a  great  quantity  of 
them  into  their  nests. 

"  As  soon  as  winter  comes,  the  snow  and  cold  confine 
them  to  their  holes  for  several  days,  especially  when  the 
weather  is  very  rough.  During  this  time  they  consume 
the  little  store  which  they  have  brought  to  their  nests ; 
as  soon,  therefore,  as  the  weather  grows  milder,  they  creep 
out,  and  dig  out  part  of  the  store  which  they  have  laid  up 
in  the  ground ;  of  this  they  eat  some  on  the  spot  and 
carry  the  rest  into  their  nests  on  the  trees.  We  fre- 
quently observed  that  in  winter,  at  the  eve  of  a  great 
frost,  when  there  had  been  some  temperate  weather,  the 
squirrels,  a  day  or  two  before  the  frost,  ran  about  the 
woods  in  greater  numbers  than  common,  partly  in  order 
to  eat  their  fill,  and  partly  to  store  their  nests  with  a  new 
provision  for  the  ensuing  great  cold,  during  which  they 
did  not  venture  to  come  out,  but  lay  snug  in  their  nests  $ 
therefore,  seeing  them  run  in  the  woods  in  greater  num- 
bers than  ordinary,  was  a  safe  prognostic  of  an  ensuing 
cold." 

Here  we  have  plainly  attributed  to  the  gray  squirrel  a 


MUSK-RATS  AND  SQUIRRELS.  81 

weather- foretelling  power,  which  certainly  is  not  exhib- 
ited by  these  animals  at  present ;  and,  more  strangely, 
Kalm  does  not  suppose  them  ever  to  become  torpid  in 
winter,  which  they  now  unquestionably  do.  Finally,  the 
underground  storehouses  of  gray  squirrels  are  but  seldom 
made  in  this  neighborhood,  though  enormous  quantities 
of  nuts  are  stored  in  the  tree  in  which  their  nest  is,  or  in 
one  very  near  it.  This,  at  least,  is  the  rule  within  the  range 
of  my  own  observations.  In  the  extracts  from  Kalm's 
volumes,  we  have  intimations,  at  least,  of  a  slight  change 
in  the  habit  of  storing  food,  and  apparently  a  great  change 
in  the  fact  that  these  animals  now  hibernate  to  a  variable 
extent,  though  formerly  they  do  not  appear  ever  to  have 
become  torpid.  If  this  be  true  of  squirrels  one  hundred 
and  more  years  ago,  why  should  the  habit  of  hibernating 
have  been  acquired,  when  the  climate  was  gradually  be- 
coming more  mild,  as  it  surely  is  ?  Has  hibernation  taken 
the  place  of  storing  food  ?  Has  less  food,  of  late  years, 
been  stored,  and  forced  semi-starvation  brought  about  the 
hibernating  habit?  From  my  own  observations,  made 
during  the  past  twenty  years,  I  do  not  find  that  the  bulk 
of  nuts,  seeds,  and  corn  stored  by  harvesting  animals 
varies  to  any  important  extent — certainly  not,  so  far  as 
gray  squirrels  and  chipmunks  are  concerned.  I  found 
just  as  many  storehouses  of  the  chipmunks  in  the  open 
winter  of  1879-'80  as  in  the  "Arctic"  one  of  1880-'81 ; 
and  yet  the  amount  consumed  the  former  year  was  prob- 
ably one  half  of  that  gathered ;  while  in  the  latter  the 
amount  consumed  was  almost  nothing.  At  the  time 
of  this  writing  (April,  1881),  the  magazines  of  the  gray 
squirrels  are  well  stored,  simply  because  these  supposed 
non-hibernating  animals  did  not  eat  a  nut  apiece  from 
early  in  December  until  late  in  February.  If  ever  there 
were  two  consecutive  winters  which  tested  the  question  of 


82  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

* 

the  variation  in  the  amount  of  food  gathered,  and  its  bear- 
ing upon  the  coming  season,  it  was  the  two  winters  I  have 
mentioned ;  and  I  could  find  no  evidence,  in  anything 
that  the  squirrels  actually  did,  that  had  any  bearing  what- 
ever on  the  character  of  the  season,  or  hinted  at  the  pos- 
session of  a  power  to  foretell  the  weather.  Certainly  the 
experience  of  these  two  winters  contradicted  the  general 
impression  as  to  any  essential  variation  in  the  "  harvest- 
ing customs  "  of  these  animals,  in  accordance  with  the 
"  openness  "  or  severity  of  the  season. 

We  are  now  brought  to  the  consideration  of  another 
phase  of  this  subject,  which  is  of  much  interest.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  yield  of  nuts  of  all  kinds  varies  to  a 
considerable  extent,  and  we  can  readily  imagine  a  case 
where,  there  being  an  abundance  of  gray  squirrels  and  a 
"  short  crop"  of  nuts,  the  supply  stored  away  for  winter 
was  less  than  usual ;  or  if,  from,  any  untoward  accident,  a 
family  of  squirrels  were  deprived  of  a  large  portion  of 
the  supply  they  had  gathered — what,  under  these  circum- 
stances, will  be  the  result  ?  Of  course,  if  the  weather  is 
very  mild,  the  squirrels  will  resist  the  tendency  to  keep 
"  in-doors,"  and  will  sally  forth  in  search  of  stray  acorns ; 
or  if,  the  ground  being  covered  with  snow,  these  are  in- 
accessible, they  will  feed  on  leaf -buds  of  the  trees ;  but 
if  the  weather  is  too  severe  for  out-of-door  work,  then 
can  they  voluntarily  pass  into  a  lethargic  state,  and  thus 
eke  out  their  small  store  ?  I  am  disposed,  both  from  ob- 
servation and  experiments,  to  believe  that  they  can.  Un- 
like some  mammals,  these  gray  squirrels  can  withstand  a 
great  degree  of  cold,  and  their  sleep,  when  deprived  of 
food  in  cold  weather,  is  to  all  appearances  true  hiberna- 
tion, and  often  extends  over  a  period  of  three  weeks. 
Rousing  from  their  nap,  they  will  eat  greedily  if  food 
is  accessible ;  but  if  not,  the  sleep  will  be  resumed.  This, 


MUSK-RATS  AND  SQUIRRELS.  83 

in  winter ;  but  in  summer  the  same  experiment  results 
inevitably  in  starvation. 

This  evidence  of  optional  hibernation  is,  I  consider,  far 
more  wonderful  than  any  power  to  foretell  the  character 
of  a  coming  season,  which,  in  the  case  of  the  musk-rat,  or 
of  the  squirrel — judging  the  one  by  the  houses  it  erects, 
and  the  other  by  the  food  it  stores  away — is  a  faculty 
that  I  do  not  believe  they  possess. 


CHAPTER  XL 

DOES    THE    OPOSSUM   PLAT 

AMONG  the  few  mammals  that  have  successfully  with- 
stood the  encroachments  of  man  upon  their  haunts,  no 
one  is  more  interesting  to  me,  in  its  habits  generally,  than 
the  well-known  opossum.  The  earliest  notice  I  find  of 
these  animals  is  by  Gabriel  Thomas,  who,  in  his  sketch 
of  Pennsylvania  and  West  New  Jersey,  published  in  1698, 
refers  to  "  that  strange  Creature,  the  Possum,  she  having 
a  Belly  to  swallow  her  Young  ones,  by  which  means  she 
preserveth  them  from  danger,  when  anything  comes  to 
disturb  them."  On  the  other  hand,  Kalm  appears  to  have 
overlooked  them,  making  no  further  reference  to  the 
animal  than  to  remark  that  "  the  opossum,  like  the  otter, 
can  be  tamed  so  as  to  follow  people  like  a  dog  " — a  state- 
ment that  scarcely  holds  good  of  the  opossums  about  here 
to-day ! 

These  animals,  it  has  always  appeared  to  me,  are  de- 
void of  cunning,  even  in  choosing  their  nesting  and  rest- 
ing places,  and  it  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  me  how 
they  have  managed  for  so  many  years  to  escape  extermi- 
nation. Yet,  stupid  as  they  unquestionably  are,  they  are 
still  abundant,  even  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  large 
towns.  Being  of  a  low  type  of  mammals,  and  characteristic 
of  an  early  geological  epoch,  are  we  to  infer  that  their  want 
of  cunning  arises  from  this  fact  ?  If  so,  it  seems  strange 
that,  through  the  inherited  experiences  of  an  immensely 


DOES  THE  OPOSSUM  PLAY  '" 'POSSUM"?        85 

extended  ancestry,  they  have  not  acquired  some  small 
degree  of  intelligence;  but  this  they  do  not  appear  to 
have  done.  They  pass  their  days  in  a  happy-go-lucky 
manner,  and,  if  they  reach  old  age,  it  is  through  good 
luck  more  than  good  management. 

The  habits  of  the  opossum  may  be  thus  summed  up  : 
Choosing  a  hollow  tree,  one  in  which  a  whole  family  can 
live,  or  a  hole  in  a  hill-side,  wThich  they  do  not  alter  and 
seldom  dig  for  themselves,  they  sleep  much  of  their 
time ;  and  when  they  occasionally  wander  about  for  food 
it  is  generally  at  night,  especially  if  it  be  moonlight, 
though  sometimes  they  go  in  broad  daylight.  They  ap- 
pear to  have  no  marked  predilection  for  any  one  kind  of 
food,  and  exercise  no  ingenuity  in  procuring  it,  being  as 
apt  to  seize  a  chicken  if  it  comes  in  the  way,  during  the 
day,  as  to  stealthily  attack  a  hen-roost  after  sundown. 
One  peculiarity,  indeed,  I  have  twice  witnessed.  This 
was  the  tearing  apart  of  a  very  soft,  decayed  log,  and  the 
capture  of  a  nest  of  large  black  ants.  In  a  bungling  way 
they  imitated  the  ant-eaters,  and  licked  up  with  the  tongue 
the  ants  and  their  larvae,  but  they  seemed  to  swallow 
more  rotten  wood  than  insects.  If  so,  the  wood,  I  im- 
agine, would  make  a  very  unpalatable  if  not  an  indigest- 
ible meal. 

Unlike  our  other  mammals,  the  opossums  have  no  spe- 
cial fear  of  man,  and  make  no  effort  to  avoid  him.  Dur- 
ing autumn,  especially,  they  wander  about  by  day  in  the 
most  unconcerned  manner.  Frequently  I  have  met  them 
in  narrow  wood-paths,  with  a  safe  cover  on  either  side, 
but,  instead  of  beating  a  retreat,  they  have  stopped  to  see 
if  I  would  get  out  of  their  way.  Of  dogs  they  have 
some  fear,  however,  and  will  shuffle  off  if  they  see  or 
hear  one ;  but  even  then  they  frequently  only  climb  a 
short  distance  up  a  tree,  and  remain  in  full  view. 


86  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Unlike  every  other  mammal  in  New  Jersey,  the  opos- 
sum appears  to  be  nearly  or  quite  voiceless.  I  do  not  say 
that  they  have  no  squeak  or  louder  cries,  but  time  and 
again  I  have  endeavored  to  force  them  to  utter  some 
sound,  but  always  in  vain.  Even  in  early  spring,  when 
several  males  were  together  and  disputing,  by  actions, 
over  the  unconcerned  females  near  by,  they  appeared  to 
be  quite  dumb.  Many  times  my  opportunities  have  been 
most  favorable  for  detecting  any  sound  that  they  might 
make,  but  I  have  heard  nothing.  When  captured  there 
may  sometimes  be  noticed  a  faint  hissing  sound,  but  I  do 
not  think  it  is  voluntarily  produced. 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  peculiarity 
in  the  anatomical  structure  of  this  animal  which  dis- 
tinguishes it  from  all  other  North  American  mammals. 
Earnest  as  have  been  the  efforts  of  many  observers  to 
learn  the  details  of  the  breeding-habits  of  the  opossum, 
there  yet  remain  some  points  of  interest  to  be  deter- 
mined. 

In  a  communication  to  the  Essex  Institute  of  Salem, 
Massachusetts  (Yol.  Ill,  p.  288),  Mr.  Shute  gives  the  fol- 
lowing as  his  own  observations,  made  at  Beaufort,  North 
Carolina : 

"The  date  of  the  birth  was  March  16,  1863.  Dur- 
ing the  delivery  of  the  young  the  parent  lay  on  the  right 
side,  with  the  body  curved  in  such  a  manner  as  to  bring 
the  sexual  organs  opposite  that  of  the  pouch  ;  the  mouth 
of  the  pouch  was  open  and  drawn  down  by  contraction 
of  the  muscles  so  as  to  receive  the  young  when  delivered. 
The  young  were  seven  in  number.  The  time  occupied 
in  delivery  was  about  four  hours.  The  parent  remained 
in  the  same  position  about  thirty-six  hours,  and  refused 
all  sustenance. 

"  Immediately  after  the  transfer  of  the  young  to  the 


DOES  THE  OPOSSUM  PLAY  '"POSSUM"?        87 

pouch,  I  removed  one,  by  detaching  it  from  the  teat,  in 
order  to  ascertain  if  the  movement  of  the  foetus  was  in- 
stinctive. I  found  that  it  was  at  least  partly  voluntary, 
as  it  made  an  effort  to  regain  its  place  in  the  pouch,  and 
the  same  movement  was  made  by  the  parent,  as  at  first,  to 
receive  it.  I  did  not  notice  any  use  of  the  lirnbs  or  lips 
of  the  parent  during  the  transfer  of  the  young." 

A  few  words  in  conclusion,  concerning  the  supposed 
peculiarity  of  the  opossum  in  feigning  death  when  cap- 
tured. 

As  the  result  of  the  systematic  and  rational  study  of 
animals  has  been  to  realize  that  animal  and  vegetable  life 
is  but  an  uninterrupted  series  of  forms,  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest  and  most  complex  organisms,  there  has 
been  a  tendency  to  see,  in  the  phenomena  exhibited  by 
lower  organisms,  merely  a  modified  condition  of  that 
which  man,  the  highest  organism,  habitually  exhibits  un- 
der like  circumstances.  While  admitting  that  man  has 
no  power,  or  gift,  so  called,  not  directly  derived  from  the 
lower  forms  of  animal  life,  may  it  not  be  that,  in  observ- 
ing the  habits  of  such  lower  forms  as  come  under  our 
notice,  we  are  sometimes  misled  by  making  personal 
comparisons  ?  and  what  a  man  might  do,  or  probably  or 
undoubtedly  would  do,  under  given  circumstances,  is  not 
what  the  observed  lower  form  of  animal  is  doing,  in  spite 
of  appearances  to  the  contrary.  I  have  been  led  to  this 
conclusion  by  the  patient  and  cautious  study  of  the  habits 
of  the  opossum  as  it  is  now  found  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  thickly-settled  districts,  where  but  little  cover 
is  afforded,  and  where  its  limited  ingenuity  is  wholly  re- 
quired to  make  good  use  of  that  which  remains. 

"While  the  habits  of  all  the  mammals  still  found  in 
settled  and  cultivated  districts,  unless  it  be  the  mice  and 
moles,  are  doubtless  more  or  less  modified  by  the  extra 


88  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

exertion  required  of  them  in  contending  against  the 
almost  constant  presence  of  their  two  greatest  enemies, 
man  and  the  dog,  thus  increasing  their  ingenuity,  it  can 
never  be  determined  how  far  the  raccoons,  otters,  and 
minks  of  to-day  are  in  advance,  either  in  intelligence  or 
cunning,  of  those  of  some  few  centuries  ago.  I  presume 
that  the  struggle  for  existence  being  more  desperate,  they 
are  more  cunning — we  know  they  are  more  wary— and 
that  they  have  had  transmitted  to  them  the  experience  of 
hundreds  of  generations.  This  is  readily  seen  in  the  case 
of  many  birds,  notably  the  common  crow,  and  why  not, 
therefore,  with  a  higher  organism  ?  In  the  case  of  the 
stupid  opossum,  this  question  is  scarcely  applicable,  as  that 
animal  is  a  link  connecting  the  present  with  the  past,  and 
therefore  not  to  be  judged  under  the  laws  governing  the 
present.  Further,  the  low  intelligence  of  the  opossum 
seems  rather  to  favor  the  view  I  shall  express  concerning 
the  peculiar  habit  that  has  rendered  the  animal  quite 
famous. 

"Whenever  the  opossum  is  captured,  it  is  popularly 
supposed  to  feign  death,  or  to  "play  'possum,"  as  it  is 
usually  called.  Now,  does  this  really  occur  ?  Does  the 
opossum  ever  deliberately  make  the  effort  to  deceive  its 
captors  by  assuming  such  a  position,  and  suppressing  its 
breath  to  such  an  extent  as  to  appear  dead  ?  If  such  be 
the  case,  it  is  well  to  look  beyond  the  mere  fact  of  thus 
feigning  death,  and  see  what  such  an  act,  if  voluntary, 
really  indicates : 

1.  The  object  being  to  render  itself  useless  or  unat- 
tractive to  its  captors,  the  opossum  must  be  credited  with 
supposing  that,  if  it  can  appear  to  be  dead,  it  will  be  use- 
less to  its  captors.  Now,  what  is  there  in  opossum-life 
that  could  give  rise  to  such  an  impression  ?  Could  the 
experience  of  past  generations,  exposed  as  they  were  to 


DOES  THE  OPOSSUM  PLAT  "'POSSUM"?        89 

the  enemies  characteristic  of  the  different  environment 
of  that  time,  do  so  ?  Here  it  may  be  added  that  the 
results  of  this  supposed  feigning  are  never  such  as  to 
warrant  the  animal  in  so  doing. 

2.  The  assertion  that  the  opossum  feigns  death  neces- 
sarily assumes  that  the  animal  in  question  realizes  what 
death  is.  While  it  may  be  admitted  that,  being  a  semi- 
carnivorous  mammal,  it  must  know  what  the  death  of  its 
prey  means,  does  any  animal  realize  that  that  is  its  own 
inevitable  fate  ?  When  badly  wounded,  or  worn  out 
with  age,  an  animal  "  crawls  away  to  die/'  but  is  it  not 
as  probable  that,  in  seeking  a  retired  spot,  it  does  so 
with  hopes  of  recovery,  rather  than  with  a  feeling  of  res- 
ignation at  its  approaching  dissolution  ?  I  must  confess, 
however,  that  the  well-known  fact  that  scorpions  can  be 
induced  to  commit  suicide,  appears  to  effectually  set  aside 
my  belief ;  unless,  indeed,  this  act  on  the  part  of  scorpions 
may  have  some  other  than  a  suicidal  explanation.  Still, 
I  am  disposed  to  believe  that  the  pleasant  knowledge  of 
approaching  death  and  its  certainty  is  confined  to  man. 
If  so,  then  in  fancying  that  we  see  death  feigned  on  the 
part  of  the  opossum,  we  ascribe  to  it  a  process  of  reason- 
ing which  is  fallacious,  and  would,  if  persisted  in,  have 
resulted  in  the  extermination  of  the  species ;  while  as  a 
fact  we  find  that  it  has,  on  the  contrary,  been  able  to 
withstand  the  encroachments  of  farming  .operations,  and 
the  destruction  of  timber  about  its  haunts,  which  have 
driven  off  some  of  the  smaller  and  all  of  the  larger  mam- 
mals. If  this  is  the  habit  of  the  opossum,  it  must  neces- 
sarily have  originated  long  prior  to  the  advent  of  man 
upon  the  earth,  and  been  acquired  as  a  safeguard  against 
the  attacks  of  enemies  not  now  existing,  which  would 
not  molest  it  if  they  supposed  it  to  be  dead.  At  present, 
this  supposed  habit  is  not  a  protection  against  the  attacks 


90  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  dogs,  its  only  enemy  here  except  man,  and  yet  after 
an  ineffectual  resistance  the  same  act  is  gone  through 
with  when  attacked  by  dogs  as  when  captured  by  man. 
It  is  a  habit  that  militates  against  its  safety,  and  could 
never  have  been  acquired  in  its  present  environment. 
Speed,  if  exercised,  would  in  many  cases  insure  safety,  and 
the  opossum  can  run  when  it  chooses  to  make  the  effort. 
That  the  supposed  habit  of  feigning  death  was  acquired 
as  a  safeguard  against  pursuit  by  man  solely,  is  absurd, 
inasmuch  as  in  this  case  it  does  not  conduce  to  the  safety 
of  the  animal ;  and  to  assert  that  any  habit  was  acquired 
solely  as  a  means  of  guarding  against  the  persecutions  of 
man,  is  to  ascribe  a  very  high  grade  of  intelligence  to 
the  most  stupid  living  mammal.  Whatever  the  origin  of 
the  habit,  if  such  it  is,  it  can  not  be  logically  regarded  as 
voluntary.  The  brain  of  the  opossum  is  too  primitive  to 
have  evolved  this  degree  of  cunning,  forethought,  and 
contrivance. 

In  order  to  test  this  supposed  habit,  I  have  sought  out 
their  hiding-places,  in  numberless  instances,  and  endeav- 
ored to  make  them  "  show  off  "  in  this  manner.  In  one 
case,  a  large  male  opossum  was  captured  in  an  ordinary 
box-trap,  set  for  rabbits.  On  lifting  the  lid  of  the 
trap,  the  animal  was  found  to  be  curled  up  into  a 
form  as  nearly  globular  as  it  was  possible  to  assume. 
Being  disturbed,  it  slowly  raised  its  head,  opened  its 
mouth  wide,  but  did  not  offer  to  bite,  and  in  this  posi- 
tion it  quietly  awaited  coming  events.  After  some  five 
minutes  of  mutual  staring,  the  opossum  closed  its  mouth 
and  slowly  restored  its  head  to  a  more  easy  position, 
and  even  closed  one  eye,  as  though  the  other  was  all 
that  was  necessary  to  note  what  might  occur.  On  be- 
ing roughly  handled  and  given  several  pushes  with  a 
stick,  it  again  opened  wide  its  mouth  and  protested 


DOES  THE  OPUSSUM  PLAY  "  'POSSUM "  f        91 

against  disturbance  by  a  low,  hissing  sound,  but  did  not 
uncoil  its  body. 

If  the  animal,  at  this  time,  realized  that  it  was  a  pris- 
oner, it  certainly  did  not  fear  death,  for  it  made  no  effort 
to  escape,  which  the  fear  of  death  would  cause  it  to  do, 
since  it  was  in  no  way  disabled.  After  waiting  an  hour, 
and  seeing  no  sign  of  feigning  unconsciousness,  but, 
instead  of  it,  a  most  provoking  indifference,  I  walked  off 
some  distance  to  a  point  where  I  could  see  the  trap,  but 
was  myself  hidden  from  the  opossum.  Fully  ten  minutes 
elapsed  before  I  saw  any  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
animal,  and  then  it  was  a  very  gradual  uncoiling  of  the 
body,  a  protracted  yawn,  a  stretching  of  the  limbs,  and 
then  standing  up,  he  looked  about  and  very  deliberately 
walked  off.  I  ran  toward  him,  when  he  quickened  his 
pace,  but  was  soon  overtaken.  On  seizing  him  by  the 
tail,  he  crouched  down,  partially  coiled  his  body,  and 
spread  his  jaws  to  the  utmost.  When  I  threatened  vio- 
lent blows  about  his  head  (although  careful  not  to  strike 
him),  the  animal's  head  slowly  sank  down,  and  the  eyes 
closed,  but  this  was  not  a  feigned  act.  The  breathing  was 
affected  but  not  suppressed,  the  surface  temperature  of 
the  body  was  lowered,  I  judged,  and  it  was,  as  I  believe,  a 
faint,  and  not  a  feint ;  a  temporary  paralysis  of  the  whole 
body  through  fear,  and  for  the  time  being  absolute  un- 
consciousness. Furthermore,  as  in  fainting,  the  applica- 
tion of  cold  water  had  the  effect  of  restoring  the  animal 
to  consciousness.  I  have  made  scores  of  experiments  of 
this  kind,  in  some  instances  actually  striking  them,  when 
the  fainting  through  fear  was  more  sudden  ;  and  in  no 
experiment  have  I  seen  anything  to  suggest  intentional 
feigning  of  death. 

The  late  Dr.  Lincecum,  in  a  sketch  of  the  habits  of 
the  opossum,  as  observed  by  him  in  the  Southern  States 


92  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

("  American  Naturalist,"  Vol.  YI,  p.  555),  speaks  of  their 
being  attacked  by  turkey  -  buzzards,  and  "going  into 
spasms,"  during  which  the  buzzards  pick  out  their  eyes 
and  otherwise  wound  them.  This  being  the  ordinary  re- 
sult of  a  "  make-believe,"  would  even  as  foolish  a  creature 
as  the  opossum  long  continue  it  ?  Again,  Dr.  Lincecum 
speaks  of  "  kicking  over "  an  opossum,  which  "  immedi- 
ately went  into  a  spasm."  This  is  a  very  different  matter 
from  feigning  unconsciousness. 

As  to  the  position  usually  assumed  when  the  opossum 
is  supposed  to  be  feigning  death,  it  is  that  which  the  ani- 
mal assumes  when  sleeping ;  and,  further,  is  the  one  best 
calculated  to  prevent  injury  from  blows,  as  the  head  and 
breast  are  partly  protected. 

As  this  animal  is  superlatively  lazy  and  positively 
timid,  and  by  no  means  intelligent,  when  compared  with 
the  mink  or  raccoon,  I  believe  this  supposed  habit  of 
feigning  death  is  attributable  to  fear  and  not  cunning ; 
and  certainly  it  is  a  merciful  provision  that  thus  destroys, 
without  pain,  all  sensation  in  animals  about  to  be  torn  to 
pieces. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

OUR  BIRDS   IN   GENERAL. 

THE  Duke  of  Argyll  lately  illustrated  most  forcibly 
the  truth  of  the  saying  that  "  a  little  learning  is  a  dan- 
gerous thing,"  when  he  wrote  disparagingly  of  the  vocal 
powers  of  American  birds.  Had  he  been  with  me  one 
spring-like  April  morning  of  the  past  year  and  heard  the 
"burst  of  song,"  lasting  from  sunrise  until  high  noon, 
to  which  I  listened,  his  want  of  appreciation  of  our  birds 
would  have  been  changed,  I  doubt  not,  to  enthusiastic 
admiration. 

For  several  days  the  birds  had  been  arriving,  one  or 
more  kinds  at  a  time,  but  it  was  not  until  the  29th  of 
the  month  that  the  summer  birds  had  arrived  in  full 
force.  The  brown  and  the  wood  thrush,  the  cat-bird,  the 
bobolink,  and  the  two  species  of  oriole,  the  three  wrens, 
and  a  host  of  other  merry  warblers  were  here  on  that 
day,  each  in  full  song,  and  congregating"  in  their  several 
haunts  they  united  in  giving  a  ringing  welcome  to  the 
coming  summer.  "What  with  the  added  voices  of  our 
winter  birds,  the  lark,  the  sparrows,  and  the  gay  cardinal, 
there  was  nothing  wanting  in  the  songs  they  sang — no 
check  to  the  melody  of  their  choral  greeting.  Amid  the 
bright  surroundings  of  the  young  leaves,  through  which 
the  trembling  sunbeams  danced  in  glee,  these  feathered 
choristers  charmed  alike  the  eye  and  ear,  and  I  listened 


94  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

for  hours  to  tlie  glad  refrain,  which  even  jet  lingers  in 
my  ears. 

i  But  we  have  other  birds  besides  those  that  sing,  and 
no  lack  of  them.  To  realize  how  numerous  they  are, 
and  how  varied  in  every  bird  feature,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  take  a  quiet  country  ramble — not  along  the  dusty 
highways,  for  there  you  will  only  see  the  alien  sparrows 
— but  in  the  woods  and  through  the  swamps,  over  the 
meadows  and  along  the  river-banks.  Do  this,  and  the 
wealth  of  bird-life  here  will  be  duly  appreciated,  and 
not  otherwise.  The  truth  is,  our  hawks  are  as  brave  and 
our  crows  as  saucy  as  any  that  can  be  found  ;  our  quails, 
too,  are  as  gamy,  our  herons  as  stately,  our  ducks  as  shy, 
and  our  divers  as  impudent,  as  those  of  other  continents ; 
and,  best  of  all,  there  is  an  abundance  of  them. 

It  is  not  my  purpose,  however,  to  maintain  the  supe- 
rior excellences  of  our  many  song-birds,  or  uphold  the 
merits  of  those  whose  virtues  are  other  than  vocal.  Those 
who  know  our  birds  best,  know  well  their  capabilities ; 
and  it  may  be  thought  a  mere  repetition  of  what  has  been 
often  said  before,  to  mention  again  either  their  songs  or 
their  general  habits.  Nevertheless,  I  am  led  to  do  so  for 
the  reason  that  I  do  not  believe  that  the  whole  history 
of  any  bird  will  ever  be  known ;  and  because  I  am  con- 
vinced that  the  nearest  approach  to  it  will  be  in  the 
sum  of  the  results  obtained  by  different  observers,  living 
in  widely  separated  localities.  The  things  that  I  have 
seen  in  Central  New  Jersey  are  not  the  same  that  would 
have  appeared  to  an  observer  in  the  mountains  of  Penn- 
sylvania, in  New  England,  or  in  the  Western  States,  for 
it  is  with  the  habits  of  birds,  not  their  anatomical  pecul- 
iarities, that  I  am  concerned,  and  these  are  decided  by 
the  bird's  environment.  As  this  is  widely  different  in 
different  portions  of  the  range  of  any  species,  it  neces- 


OUR  BIRDS  IN  GENERAL.  95 

sarily  follows  that  there  must  result  certain  peculiarities 
of  habit  incident  to  the  locality  that  are  of  interest  to  the 
philosophical  naturalist. 

In  a  region  like  Central  New  Jersey,  which  seems  to 
be  a  neutral  ground  between  the  ranges  of  Northern  and 
Southern  species,  it  is  scarcely  practicable  to  determine 
precisely  the  avi-fauna.  Every  year  adds  additional  in- 
stances of  the  occurrence  of  some  rare  straggler ;  and,  in 
accordance  with  the  character  of  the  winter  especially,  is 
there  an  abundance  or  otherwise  of  certain  species  that 
make  a  brief  stay  during  that  season.  Again,  it  is  scarcely 
practicable  for  an  observer,  however  enthusiastic,  to  be 
out-of-doors  the  entire  day,  and,  I  may  add,  evening; 
and  yet,  unless  thus  constantly  on  the  watch,  the  coming 
and  going  of  certain  species  will  escape  his  notice.  A 
list  of  birds  characteristic  of  a  given  locality  is  of  value 
as  a  catalogue  of  a  very  limited  area,  and  does  not  hold 
good  over  any  considerable  number  of  square  miles,  for 
the  variation  in  the  surface  geology  or  physical  geogra- 
phy of  the  neighborhood  affects  in  a  marked  degree  the 
habits  of  some  species,  and  decides  the  presence  or  absence 
of  others  during  a  part  or  the  whole  of  the  year.  As  an 
instance,  Gentry,  in  his  "  Life  Histories  of  Birds,"  refers 
to  our  common  meadow-lark  as  migratory  about  German- 
town  (Philadelphia),  Pennsylvania,  while  in  this  neighbor- 
hood it  is  a  winter  resident ;  and  the  same  might  be  said 
of  several  other  species.  Yet  the  field  of  Mr.  Gentry's 
observations  and  my  own  are  but  thirty  miles  apart  as 
the  crow  flies,  though  geologically  they  are  as  different 
as  well  can  be. 

In  conclusion,  it  may  be  added  that  in  the  uplands 
and  meadows,  and  along  the  river-banks,  I  have  noted 
one  hundred  and  seventy-two  species  of  birds.  Of  these, 
many  are  migratory,  while  others  visit  us  but  rarely.  Of 


96  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

those  that  remain  throughout  the  year  there  are  but  few, 
though  at  no  season  are  we  without  a  sufficient  variety  to 
make  it  as  pleasant  as  it  is  profitable  to  indulge  in  out-of- 
door  studies  in  ornithology.  Even  in  the  gloomiest  days 
of  winter  there  will  always  be  a  stray  song-sparrow,  nut- 
hatch, or  tit,  a  brave  cardinal,  a  lark,  or  at  least  a  crow, 
jay,  or  woodpecker,  to  enliven  the  woods  and  fields,  and 
no  bird  can  be  long  watched,  as  it  hovers  about  its  chosen 
haunts,  without  giving  us  some  further  insight  into  the 
mysteries  of  bird-life. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   MIGRATION   OF   INLAND   BIRDS. 

As  understood  by  me,  the  migration  of  a  bird  is  sim- 
ply the  desertion  of  a  given  locality  for  a  certain  and  al- 
ways the  same  portion  of  each  year.  As  an  example,  the 
common  house-wren  is  migratory,  in  that  it  remains  in 
New  Jersey  only  from  late  in  April  until  late  in  Septem- 
ber, having  left  its  southern  home  for  six  months. 

Before  endeavoring  to  determine  the  causes  of  this 
movement  on  the  part  of  some  birds,  we  must  first  note 
the  various  features  characterizing  the  movement  itself — 
for  it  may  safely  be  asserted  that  no  two  birds  migrate 
in  the  same  manner,  although  the  similarity  is  marked 
among  the  various  species  of  the  same  family.  The  most 
notable  feature  in  migration  is  the  apparent  uniformity  in 
the  time  of  its  occurrence ;  that  is,  of  the  dates  of  the  ar- 
rivals in  spring  and  of  the  departures  in  autumn.  Is 
this  arrival  in  spring  as  regular  as  claimed  by  some  and 
supposed  by  most  people  ?  To  the  casual  observer,  and 
indeed  to  many  who  have  for  years  noted  the  first  appear- 
ances of  our  various  birds,  the  arrival  seems  to  be  quite 
regular ;  and,  curiously  enough,  we  find  many  such  ob- 
servers insisting  that,  however  late  a  bird  may  be,  any  one 
season,  he  is  never  earlier  than  a  given  date.  Thus  we 
have  been  frequently  told  that  the  wrens  are  never  seen 
before  May  1st,  and  that  usually  upon  that  day  they 
are  here  in  full  force.  Now,  let  any  one  watch  day  and 
5 


98  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

night  for  the  first  birds  of  the  season;  let  him  wan- 
der all  day  in  or  about  tangled  thickets  and  sheltered, 
sunny  hill-sides ;  let  him,  with  sleepless  eye,  scrutinize 
every  haunt  of  the  birds,  and  with  vigilant  ear  listen  to 
every  faint  chirp  and  far-off  twitter,  and  follow  up  every 
undetermined  bird-note  ;  let  him  do  this,  year  after  year, 
from  April  1st  to  the  30th,  and  he  will  find  his  note- 
books teeming  with  records  of  early  birds,  that  will  come 
and  go  all  unsuspected  by  the  mid-day  observer,  who 
often  will  insist  upon  the  absence  altogether  of  many 
a  summer  songster,  which,  skulking  about,  withholds  its 
joyous  songs  until  the  woods  have  welcomed  the  full 
company  of  its  kind,  that  of  old  have  made  merry  in  its 
shady  nooks.  The  fact  is,  there  is  more  to  be  learned 
about  birds  in  one  hour  of  the  early  morning  than  in 
six  weeks  of  midday  sunshine. 

The  amount  of  variation  in  the  dates  of  arrival  of  all 
of  our  spring  birds  is  really  considerable,  and  in  the 
whole  list  of  migratory  inland  birds  that  annually  visit 
~NQW  Jersey,  either  to  remain  throughout  the  summer 
or  on  their  way  to  more  northern  localities,  there  is  not 
one  that  can  be  considered  regular  in  the  time  of  reach- 
ing here,  by  from  twenty  to  thirty  days. 

The  amount  of  variation  in  the  dates  of  arrival,  year 
after  year,  of  the  same  species — say  of  the  brown  thrush, 
cat-bird,  or  yellow-breasted  chat — is  less,  however,  than  in 
the  time  of  arrival  of  allied  species,  as,  for  instance,  of  the 
various  species  of  thrushes  which  reach  us  very  irregu- 
larly. The  robin  is  a  resident  species  ;  the  wood-thrush 
appears  from  April  loth  to  May  10th;  the  tawny  thrush 
sometimes  later  by  two  weeks,  and  sometimes  absent  al- 
together ;  the  olive-backed  thrush  passes  by  irregularly 
as  to  both  time  and  seasons,  and  so,  too,  does  the  hermit- 
thrush,  which,  however,  occasionally  remains  throughout 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.  99 

the  summer.  The  brown  thrush,  or  "  thrasher,"  comes 
to  us  by  twos  and  threes  as  early  as  April  20th,  and  not 
until  after  the  1st  of  May  can  they  be  considered  as 
present  in  full  force.  The  mocking-bird  is  very  irregu- 
lar, both  as  to  years  and  dates,  and  the  cat-bird,  never 
missing  a  year,  wants  the  early  May  foliage  developed 
in  which  to  skulk.  Often  in  "single  blessedness"  he 
comes  to  his  last  year's  haunts,  and  is  wonderfully  in- 
genious in  his  efforts  to  conceal  himself  in  the  leafless 
thickets  of  early  April,  keeping  ever  close  to  the  ground, 
and  never  venturing  upon  the  slightest  attempt  at  a  song. 

The  many  notes  I  have  made  with  reference  to  the 
warblers  also  indicate  a  great  degree  of  irregularity  and 
uncertainty  in  their  migratory  movements.  This  applies 
to  these  birds  not  only  as  a  family,  but  to  all  of  the  vari- 
ous species  separately,  of  which  a  score  or  more  generally 
pass  through  the  State.  During  certain  seasons  I  have 
noticed  a  marked  preponderance  of  some  one  or  two 
warblers  which  in  the  following  seasons  were  much  less 
common  than  many  other  kinds  of  birds.  Thus,  in 
1860,  1864,  1867,  and  1872  the  common  redstarts  were 
very  abundant,  not  only  about  their  natural  haunts,  but 
within  the  city  limits,  and  scores  of  them  could  be  seen 
climbing  over  and  flitting  through  the  branches  of  the 
shade-trees  of  the  less-frequented  streets.  Since  1872, 
except  in  1882,  these  birds  have  not  been  so  numerous  ; 
indeed,  they  have  been  far  less  so  than  many  other  war- 
blers, such  as  the  yellow-rumped,  the  black-throated  blue, 
and  the  yellow  summer  warbler. 

Unlike  the  thrushes,  the  warblers  seem  to  be  largely  con- 
trolled by  meteorological  influences  ;  and  sudden  changes 
of  the  weather,  which,  unlike  some  birds,  they  seem  un- 
able to  foretell,  greatly  influence  their  movements,  and 
certainly  delay  their  northward  progress  ;  and  yet,  while 


100  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

I  have  frequently  known  them  to  be  caught  in  a  "  north- 
easter," they  are  not  otherwise  affected  by  it,  so  far  as  I 
could  determine,  other  than  by  the  delay  before  men- 
tioned. Even  a  sudden  change  from  warm,  summer-like 
weather  to  decided  cold,  did  not  apparently  destroy  any 
of  them  or  check  their  lively  movements  among  the  trees. 
Let  us  glance  at  the  well-known  swallows.  For  five 
months  of  every  year  we  have  with  us,  in  greater  or  less 
abundance,  six  species  of  swallow  and  one  "  swift,"  the 
common  chimney-swallow.  Of  these,  one,  the  rough- 
winged  swallow,  is  comparatively  rare  ;  the  white-bellied 
are  not  particularly  abundant,  except  during  certain  sea- 
sons ;  the  cliff-swallow  is  erratic,  now  here,  about  the 
barns  and  stables  of  a  circumscribed  neighborhood  for 
several  years,  and  then  wholly  failing  to  appear  in  their 
former  haunts.  Not  so,  however,  with  the  barn-swal- 
low; with  a  variation  in  date  of  arrival  of  about  ten 
days,  there  comes  to  us  in  May  our  full  complement  of 
these  beautiful  birds.  They  have  decreased  in  numbers 
during  the  past  fifty  years,  so  observant  old  farmers  have 
said,  but  probably  not  so  much  as  they  think.  It  is  more 
probably  the  increase  in  the  numbers  of  other  species 
that  makes  the  numbers  of  the  barn-swallow  seem  fewer. 
The  bank-swallow,  earliest  of  all,  is  here  literally  by  mill- 
ions, and  the  purple  martins,  in  moderate  numbers,  sel- 
dom fail  to  occupy  the  boxes  placed  for  their  accommoda- 
tion ;  while,  lastly,  the  chimney-swallow,  I  believe,  has 
never  failed  to  appear  in  about  the  same  numbers  year 
after  year.  I  have  fewer  instances  recorded  of  single  swal- 
lows, seen  at  unusually  early  dates,  than  of  birds  of  any 
other  family.  Some,  indeed,  arrive  much  earlier  than 
others,  as  for  instance  the  bank-swallow ;  but  the  differ- 
ence in  the  date  of  its  arrival,  throughout  any  ten  years, 
is  certainly  much  less  than  it  is  with  other  birds,  which 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         101 

with  some  is  surprisingly  regular,  though  not  absolutely 
so,  as  is  so  often  asserted. 

Let  us  now  glance  at  the  peculiarities  of  this  family 
of  birds,  and  compare  them  with  the  thrushes  and  war- 
blers. One  marked  difference  is  seen  in  their  wonderful 
flight-power,  the  thrushes  and  warblers  being  weak  in 
their  powers  of  flight;  positively  as  well  as  compara- 
tively ;  and  my  observations  bear  me  out  in  asserting,  as 
a  law  of  migration,  that  its  regularity  is  in  proportion  to 
and  solely  dependent  on  the  flight-powers  of  the  species. 
With  the  entire  list  of  inland  birds  of  New  Jersey  we 
believe  this  to  hold  good. 

I  have  already  expressed  my  belief  that  many  birds 
have  the  ability  to  foretell  a  coming  storm.  As  this  is  not 
directly  connected  with  the  subject  of  migration,  as  I  am 
now  considering  it,  I  will  pass  to  another  feature  of  this 
prophetic  power,  as  it  apparently  is,  in  birds,  and  that  is, 
their  ability  to  judge  of  the  general  character  of  the  com- 
ing season  by  a  visit  of  a  few  days'  duration  early  in  spring. 
I  have  so  frequently  noticed  that  certain  birds,  common 
to  a  locality  during  the  summer,  occasionally  fail  to  visit 
it,  except  in  the  case  of  one  or  two  individuals,  that  come 
for  a  few  days  in  April,  that  it  has  appeared  as  if  these 
pioneer  birds  had  satisfactory  reasons  for  believing  that 
there  would  be  a  scarcity  of  food,  and  so  returned  to  meet 
their  fellows,  and,  informing  them  of  the  fact,  they  all  de- 
parted to  "fresh  fields  and  pastures  netfc,"  just  as  a  single 
crow,  discovering  danger,  will  turn  a  whole  colony  from 
their  course  as  they  are  going  to  their  roosting-place.  This, 
be  it  understood,  is  a  supposition,  and  may  be  wholly  un- 
true ;  but  how  are  we  to  interpret  the  meaning  of  any 
habit  or  particular  movement  of  a  bird,  except  by  the 
human  standard  ?  An  act  on  the  part  of  a  bird  is  intel- 
ligible to  us  only  as  we  would  interpret  a  corresponding 


102  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

act  in  man ;  and  these  acts  in  birds  and  men,  producing 
allied  results,  indicate  that  close  connection  between  all 
animal  life  which  is  so  readily  comprehended  from  an 
evolutionary  stand-point.  Now,  as  an  instance  of  this 
"  foretelling  "  power  in  birds,  I  noted,  during  the  spring 
of  1874,  the  arrival  of  the  first  chewink  or  towhee  bunt- 
ing on  the  27th  of  April.  Busily  it  hopped  among  the 
dried  leaves  and  tangled  briers,  enlivening  the  thicket 
with  its  constant  song,  just  as  a  dozen  of  its  kind  had 
done  throughout  the  preceding  summer.  In  a  few  days 
it  had  disappeared,  and  not  a  chewink  has  been  seen  or 
heard  for  nearly  six  months.  Late  in  October  a  few  were 
noticed  on  their  way  south  from  the  country  north  of  us. 
This  locality  is  one  where  these  birds  usually  congregate, 
and  I  have  often  found  a  dozen  nests  within  its  limits. 
But,  a  few  miles  away,  these  birds  were  as  abundant  as 
usual.  In  two  ways  I  can  explain  the  absence  of  these 
birds:  either  those  that  were  accustomed  to  occupy  it 
went  to  a  new  locality,  and  the  single  bird  that  had  pre- 
ceded them,  finding  his  companions  did  not  come,  left, 
rather  than  remain  alone ;  or  he  left  to  announce  that 
food  would  be  scarce — for  it  must  be  remembered,  as 
Darwin  has  remarked,  "  most  animals  and  plants  keep  to 
their  proper  homes,  and  do  not  needlessly  wander  about, 
as  is  seen  even  with  migratory  birds,  which  almost  always 
return  to  the  same  spot."  At  any  rate,  the  summer  of 
1874,  in  this  neighborhood,  was  the  driest  in  the  past 
fifty  years,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  chewink  knew  what 
was  coming.  So,  at  least,  I  believe.  During  that  sum- 
mer I  noted  the  nearly  entire  absence  of  several  species 
which  are  common,  as  a  rule,  and  a  very  marked  decrease 
in  the  numbers  of  those  that  did  appear ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  my  note-books  mention  the  arrival  of  one  or  more 
individuals  of  every  one  of  our  migratory  birds.  Many, 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         103 

like  the  chewink,  foresaw  what  was  coming,  and  acted 
accordingly.  It  would  be  most  interesting  to  determine 
if  insect-life  was  less  abundant  than  usual  during  that 
summer,  but  I  can  only  note  on  this  point,  as  suggestive 
of  the  fact  that  it  was  so,  a  marked  freedom  of  the  fruit- 
trees  and  fruit  itself  from  the  attacks  of  their  insect  ene- 
mies. 

I  must  confess,  however,  that  this  explanation  of  the 
coincidence  between  the  actual  absence  of  the  birds,  and 
the  occurrence  of  a  remarkably  rainless  summer,  does 
not  lead  me  to  believe  that  birds  generally  have  a  pro- 
phetic insight,  or  that  they  are  habitually  led  thereby  to 
prepare  for  the  season,  whatever  it  may  prove  to  be. 
My  statistics,  covering  many  years,  with  especial  refer- 
ence to  several  of  our  smaller  mammals,  show  that  they 
do  not  possess  such  foretelling  powers,  and  therefore  it 
is  the  less  probable  that  any  bird  should  be  thus  gifted. 
When  my  remarks  on  migration  were  first  written,  I  was 
disposed  to  attribute  prophetic  power  to  migrating  birds. 
I  let  my  notes  stand  as  originally  written,  but  must  add, 
in  this  connection,  that  during  the  past  eight  years  I  have 
grown  skeptical. 

Another  feature  of  the  migration  of  our  inland  birds 
must  here  be  briefly  referred  to ;  and  that  is,  the  failure 
of  late  years  of  certain  species  to  come,  as  a  rule,  as  far 
north  as  New  Jersey ;  and  also  the  habit,  now  fully  ac- 
quired by  others,  of  remaining  throughout  the  year,  when, 
but  a  comparatively  short  time  ago,  these  same  birds  were 
truly  migratory. 

As  an  instance :  the  summer  redbirds,  twenty  years 
ago,  were  regular  visitors  to  Central  New  Jersey,  arriving 
about  the  first  of  May  and  staying  until  October.  They 
nested  on  trees,  frequently  in  apple  orchards,  laying  pret- 
ty, purple-blotched,  green  eggs.  They  preferred  wooded 


104  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

hill-sides  with  a  growth  of  underbrush,  and  having  a 
southern  exposure.  In  such  situations  they  were  numer- 
ous, and  to  one  such  locality,  in  particular,  I  can  well  re- 
member the  charm  they  added  by  the  bright  gleam  of 
their  plumage  as  they  passed  from  tree  to  tree,  uttering 
their  peculiar  but  not  melodious  notes.  For  the  past 
twenty  years  I  have  not  seen  half  a  dozen  individuals, 
and  no  nests  have  been  recorded  since  1857.  In  far 
scantier  numbers  the  scarlet  tanager  has  taken  their 
place,  although  this  bird  is  not  rare  by  any  means,  nor 
was  it  so  when  the  preceding  species  was  abundant. 

It  is  much  the  same  with  the  mocking-bird.  For- 
merly as  regular  in  its  appearance,  if  not  as  abundant,  as 
the  cat-bird,  it  is  now  among  our  rarest  summer  visitants. 
An  occasional  pair,  selecting  some  well-tangled  thicket, 
will  come  late  or  early  and  build  their  nest,  and  then 
half  a  dozen  years  may  elapse  before  we  see  them  again. 
Yet  fifty  years  ago  these  birds  were  common. 

Gabriel  Thomas,  in  his  history  of  "  Pensilvania  and 
West  New  Jersey,"  published  in  1698,  in  the  list  of  birds 
of  Pennsylvania  to  which  his  attention  had  been  called, 
refers  to  this  thrush  as  "that  strange  and  remarkable 
fowl  call'd  (in  these  parts)  the  Mocking- Bir d" ;  and 
again,  in  making  a  similar  list  of  "  West  New  Jersey  " 
animals,  he  mentions  "  that  uncommon  and  valuable  Bird 
(being  near  the  bigness  of  a  Cuckoo)  call'd  the  Mocking- 
Bird."  From  the  prominence  he  gives  it  in  the  brief  list 
of  such  large  birds  as  geese,  eagles,  and  pheasants,  I  pre- 
sume that  it  was  then  a  very  abundant  species.  Fifty 
years  later,  Kalm  found  mocking-birds  near  Philadelphia, 
and  remarks,  "  These  birds  stay  all  summer  in  the  colonies, 
bnt  retire  in  autumn  to  the  South,  and  stay  away  all  win- 
ter." 

During  the  past  half-century  the  numbers  of  these 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         105 

birds  that  visit  New  Jersey  have  undoubtedly  steadily  de- 
creased. In  such  cases  as  have  come  under  my  own  notice, 
however,  the  love  of  locality  is  very  strong,  and,  if  the 
nest  is  not  disturbed,  the  pair  will  return  year  after  year. 
It  is  probable  that,  in  this  case,  withdrawal  from  so  north- 
ern a  locality  is  not  voluntary,  but  is  due  to  the  almost 
certain  persecution  to  which  they  are  subjected.  The 
remarkable  vocal  powers  of  the  bird  straightway  publish 
the  locality  to  every  prowler,  and  the  nest  is  soon  sought 
for  the  valuable  brood.  In  accordance  with  evolutionary 
doctrines,  these  birds  should  have  learned  in  time  to  keep 
quiet,  as  their  tongues  are  their  worst  enemies ;  but  this 
probably  is  too  great  a  sacrifice,  and  so  they  now  remain 
away,  or  are  so  seldom  met  with  as  scarcely  to  be  con- 
sidered as  an  actual  member  of  our  avi-fauna.  Once, 
however,  in  the  past  twenty  years,  there  has  occurred  an 
unusual  northward  flight  of  these  birds.  In  May,  1862, 
in  several  localities,  they  were  noticed  in  considerable 
numbers,  and  attention  was  drawn  to  the  fact  in  the 
local  newspapers.  It  is  not  improbable  that  the  war  in 
Virginia,  then  in  progress,  had  much  to  do  with  this ;  as 
it  is  evident  that  the  constant  cannonading  and  ceaseless 
blaze  of  camp-fires  over  much  of  the  territory  usually 
occupied  by  these  birds  would  have  the  effect  of  driving 
them  beyond  the  limits  of  these  disturbances. 

As  instances  of  "  spring  arrivals"  that  have  become 
resident  species,  I  will  first  mention  the  well-known  blue- 
bird, which,  whatever  may  be  the  state  of  the  weather,  is 
as  lively  and  full  of  song  from  November  to  April  as  at 
any  time  during  the  summer ;  yet  it  is  still  considered  as 
a  migratory  species,  and  formerly,  I  doubt  not,  was  so, 
even  in  New  Jersey.  More  interesting  is  the  instance 
of  the  common  yellow-rumped  warbler,  which,  in  scanty 


106  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

numbers,  braves  our  winters,  and  from  the  tops  of  the 
loftier  pines  chirps  merrily  while  the  snow-flakes  fill  the 
air,  though  later  in  the  winter  it  seeks  shelter  in  protected 
nooks  where  the  noonday  sun  has  melted  the  snow  and 
given  us  a  breath  of  spring-like  air.  In  several  such  spots, 
since  February,  1863,  when  I  shot  the  first  winter  speci- 
men, I  have  not  failed  to  find  several  individuals  of  this 
species  during  each  of  the  winter  months ;  and  there 
seems  to  be  a  steady  increase  in  the  number  of  them  that 
thus  remain.  The  same  remarks  will  apply,  in  part,  to 
that  beautiful  but  not  well-known  songster,  Bewick's 
wren.  They  too,  in  scanty  numbers,  congregate  in  shel- 
tered places,  and  even  during  the  gloomiest  of  November 
days  one  may  often  hear  the  clear  notes  of  this  lively 
bird  as  it  sits,  braving  a  chilly  westerly  wind,  perched  on 
the  topmost  twig  of  some  leafless  tree. 

A  more  marked  instance  than  any,  perhaps,  is  that  of 
the  great  Carolina  wren.  In  the  "  History  of  North 
American  Birds,"  by  Baird,  Brewer,  and  Kidgway,  it  is 
stated  that  this  wren  "  occasionally  has  been  found  as  far 
north  as  Philadelphia,"  and  that  it  is  essentially  a  south- 
ern species.  Although  Audubon  found  it  breeding  in 
New  Jersey  fully  fifty  years  ago,  the  probabilities  are 
that,  until  recently,  it  was  essentially  a  rare  visitant  to 
this  locality.  At  the  present  time,  however,  this  is  far 
from  being  true,  as  it  is  really,  in  many  localities,  taking 
the  place  of  the  commoner  house-wren.  Neither  is  it 
"studious  of  concealment,  and  shy  and  retiring  in  its 
habits,"  but,  on  the  contrary,  it  builds  its  nests  in  our 
out-buildings  wherever  a  suitable  locality  offers,  however 
much  frequented  the  building  may  be.  So  tame,  too, 
are  they  at  such  times,  that  it  needs  but  little  dexterity 
to  capture  them  with  the  hand  while  they  are  sitting  on 
the  nest.  They  usually  raise  three  broods,  and  are  yearly 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.          107 

becoming  more  abundant,  and  therefore  a  more  promi- 
nent feature  in  our  avi-fauna. 

The  interest  centering  in  this  species,  however,  is  not 
the  fact  of  their  summer  sojourn  here,  but  that  they 
have  wholly  relinquished  the  migratory  habit.  They 
are  as  abundant,  as  full  of  song,  as  familiar,  and  as  super- 
latively restless  and  wren-like  in  January  as  in  June,  and 
in  this  they  afford  an  instance  of  change  of  habit  that  is 
worthy  of  consideration.  It  is  not  the  only  example, 
however,  of  a  wren  braving  the  severity  of  our  winters. 
We  have  the  true  winter  wren,  and,  in  scanty  numbers, 
Bewick's  wren.  It  has  already  been  mentioned  that  the 
supposed  regularity  of  the  movements  of  the  common 
house-wren  does  not  now  obtain.  Indeed,  during  the 
past  seven  years,  I  have  carefully  noted  the  dates  of 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  house  wren,  and  find  that 
they  are  here  both  earlier  in  April  and  later  in  autumn 
than  I  had  supposed.  It  would  appear  that  they,  too,  are 
slowly  becoming  accustomed  to  our  wintry  spring  days 
and  early  foretastes  of  winter,  and  that  their  tarrying 
with  us  is  simply  a  question  of  food.  In  the  case  of  the 
Carolina  wren,  may  it  not  be  said  that  the  descendants  of 
the  wrens  found  in  New  Jersey,  by  Audubon,  fifty  years 
ago,  have  become  acclimated,  and  so  remain  throughout 
the  year ;  or  do  these  birds,  in  scanty  numbers,  annually 
migrate  from  more  southern  localities,  and  leave  a  few 
of  their  progeny  behind  when  the  winter  winds  again 
drive  them  southward  ?  It  is  immaterial  which  is  the 
case,  as  it  suffices  to  know  that  here,  in  Central  New  Jer- 
sey, the  Carolina  wren,  a  well-marked  southern  species, 
has  of  late  years  become  an  abundant  resident  species. 
With  the  change,  too,  has  come  a  change  in  its  habits,  so 
far  as  this  was  necessary  to  enable  it  to  seek  a  sufficient 
food-supply  in  winter.  Just  where  it  finds  this  food  in 


108  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

midwinter,  and  of  what  it  consists,  I  am  not  sure ;  but 
from  the  fact  that  it  frequents  our  out-buildings,  and  is 
also  often  seen  in  the  woods,  especially  among  fallen  tim- 
ber, it  is  probable  that  hibernating  insect-life  and  spiders 
afford  it  all  needed  nourishment. 

I  have  now  noted  the  more  prominent  features  in  the 
migratory  habits  of  our  inland  birds  as  they  come  to  us 
in  May  from  the  South,  save  the  one  fact,  the  bearing  of 
which  I  can  not  determine,  that,  while  a  large  proportion 
of  the  birds  perform  the  journey  by  night,  others  travel 
wholly  by  day.  At  least  this  is  the  common  impression, 
but  it  is  difficult  to  demonstrate  it.  How  little  really  do 
we  know  of  the  precise  modus  operandi  of  migration ! 
All  through  April  arid  May,  if  astir  at  the  earliest  dawn, 
when  the  resident  birds  are  just  starting  their  morning 
songs,  we  will  occasionally  hear  the  welcome  notes  of 
some  summer  bird  for  the  first  time.  Has  it  been  wing- 
ing its  way  northward  through  the  thick,  black  hours  of 
night,  guided  by  some  unknown  sense ;  and  does  it  no 
sooner  reach  its  old-time  haunts  than  it  checks  its  onward 
course,  and  from  a  familiar  tree  sings  with  grateful  heart 
a  loud  thanksgiving  glee  ? 

If,  during  these  same  months,  we  wander  about  those 
quiet  nooks  and  by-ways,  where  the  first  thrushes  and 
warblers  are  likely  to  be  seen,  we  shall  find  all  the  day 
long,  and  evening,  too,  that  they  are  conspicuous  by  their 
absence.  Not  a  chirp  or  twitter,  save  of  the  sparrows 
and  tits  that  are  with  us  all  the  year,  and  of  the  linger- 
ing snow-birds  that  seem  to  regret  to  leave  our  pleasant 
places.  Far  into  the  night  we  may  remain,  and  only 
the  startled  chirp  of  some  disturbed  or  dreaming  bird,  or 
the  fret  and  scolding  of  little  owls,  will  greet  our  ears. 
The  silence  of  midnight  may  pass  unbroken,  and  then,  as 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         109 

the  first  gray  streaks  of  light,  in  the  hazy  east,  herald  the 
on-coming  day,  suddenly  a  cheerful  warble  from  some 
tall  cedar,  or  tangled  brier-patch,  breaks  the  dead  silence, 
and  we  mark  the  arrival  of  the  first  spring  songster  of 
its  kind.  Did  it  reach  us  at  sunset,  and,  having  rested  a 
few  hours,  did  it  then  announce  its  presence  by  its  cheery 
song? 

It  may  be  that  they  come  both  by  day  and  by  night, 
but  why  at  all  by  night,  if  indeed  so  they  come,  must  ever 
be  a  great  mystery  in  the  strange  habit  of  migration. 

I  let  the  above  sentences  stand  unaltered,  but  the 
years  since  they  were  written  have  added  to  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  migratory  movements  of  our  smaller,  weak- 
flying  inland  birds.  Not  long  since,  many  of  these  birds 
of  several  species  were  seen,  by  the  aid  of  a  telescope, 
moving  southward,  in  large  numbers,  on  a  bright,  moon- 
light night,  flying  at  an  estimated  height  of  about  two  and 
one  half  miles.  Straightway  on  reading  this,  I  compared 
my  dates  of  arrivals  of  all  our  birds,  a::d  then  made  com- 
parison with  the  almanacs  for  those  years.  Twenty-three 
years  of  these  notes  should  give  us  something  worthy  of 
acceptance,  I  think;  and  it  was  found  that  the  nearer 
the  full  of  the  moon  comes  to  the  1st  of  May,  the  earlier 
collectively  arrives  the  full  complement  of  our  summer 
migrants.  Of  course,  a  storm  may  make  a  difference, 
and  I  think  the  prevalence  of  cold  northerly  winds  does 
also ;  but  still  it  may  be  accepted  as  a  fact  that  very 
many  of  our  birds  take  advantage  of  moonlight,  and  see- 
ing where  they  are  going,  and  knowing  where  they  wish 
to  go,  they  travel  by  night.  This,  of  course,  necessitates 
long  journeys,  and  I  am  puzzled  to  know  how  those  birds 
of  apparently  weak  flight-power  can  cover  such  long  dis- 
tances. It  can  not  be  wholly  due  to  their  powers  of 
endurance,  but  may  be  owing  to  some  advantage  taken, 


110  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

I  know  not  how,  of  a  strong  upper  current  of  air,  that 
bears  them  along  in  the  direction  they  desire  to  go. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  vigor  of  the  male  birds 
and  the  distended  ovaries  of  the  females,  at  this  time  of 
the  year,  are  doubtless  coupled  with  a  general  vigor  of 
the  whole  body ;  but  it  is  questionable  if  this  additional 
strength  of  itself  is  sufficient  to  enable  these  birds  to  fly 
for  hundreds  of  miles  without  rest ;  and  furthermore,  if 
such  is  the  case  in  spring,  they  have  not  this  added  strength 
in  autumn,  when  also  these  long  journeys  are  made. 

Let  us  next  study  our  birds  during  the  autumn.  A 
careful  examination  of  the  many  notes,  jotted  down  at 
frequent  intervals,  during  the  months  of  August,  Sep- 
tember, October,  and  November,  with  respect  to  the  de- 
parture south  of  such  of  our  birds  as  are  summer  resi- 
dents, and  of  some  that,  having  passed  the  summer  in 
regions  far  to  the  north,  are  now  likewise  seeking  their 
accustomed  winter-quarters,  indicates  an  apparent  regu- 
larity in  the  southward  movements  of  our  birds,  similar 
to  what  is  seen  in  the  spring,  when  they  are  on  their  way 
northward,  and  at  the  same  time  it  shows  an  actual  de- 
gree of  irregularity  in  the  dates  of  departure  exceeding 
that  ot  the  dates  of  arrival. 

An  instance  of  this  was  brought  to  my  notice  one 
August  morning  in  1881.  As  a  point  of  observation  for 
noting  the  movements  of  certain  birds  frequenting  tne 
tops  of  our  tallest  trees,  I  sought  a  seat  as  near  the  top 
of  a  fine  old  chestnut-oak  as  I  dared  to  go.  While  on  my 
elevated  perch,  I  was  surprised  to  find  that,  now  and  then, 
a  stray  specimen  of  some  unlooked-for  bird  would  tarry 
a  moment  in  the  tree-tops,  and  then,  resuming  its  high, 
southern  flight,  would  pass  quickly  out  of  sight.  Such 
birds  were  orioles,  both  the  Baltimore  and  orchard ;  sin- 
gle rusty  grakles ;  a  Maryland  yellow-throat,  a  ground- 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         HI 

loving  species,  still  abundant  in  the  thickets  beneath  me ; 
a  golden-crowned  thrush;  several  black-throated  bunt- 
ings; and  two  humming-birds,  male  and  female,  still 
keeping  company.  The  movements  of  all  these  birds 
impressed  me  with  the  belief  that  they  were  migrating 
birds,  and  not  mere  chance  visitors.  In  most  instances, 
they  seemed  to  drop  from  above ;  they  remained  but  a 
little  while,  never  longer  than  ten  minutes,  and  then 
took  a  distinctly  upward  flight  until  nearly  out  of  sight, 
when  they  started  down  the  river — that  is,  in  a  southerly 
direction.  This  movement,  which  was  well  marked  in 
every  case,  I  construed  into  a  migratory  one,  and  occur- 
ring as  it  did  so  early  in  the  season  as  August  20th,  it 
leads  to  the  conclusion  that  the  return  or  autumnal  flight 
of  our  migratory  birds  commences  very  soon  after  incu- 
bation is  over,  and  is  not  a  sudden  impulse  that  controls 
the  movements  of  the  entire  number  of  any  given  spe- 
cies. Certain  it  is  that  the  degree  of  irregularity  in  the 
return  of  the  birds  that  pass  northward  in  May  is  very 
great — much  more  so  than  is  the  onward  movement  in 
spring  to  their  northern  summer  haunts.  This  does  not 
apply  to  all  species,  of  course,  but  to  many ;  and  it  is 
precisely  such  exceptions — such  semi-migrating  or  "ir- 
regular "  species — that  give  evidence  that  the  movement 
is  slowly  being  relinquished,  as  being  no  longer  absolutely 
necessary  for  their  comfort  and  well-being. 

There  are  two  very  common  birds,  belonging  to  widely 
different  families,  the  habits  of  which,  I  think,  bear  di- 
rectly upon  this  subject.  One  of  these  is  the  well-known 
yellow-breasted  chat,  the  other  the  indigo-bird. 

The  chat  is  one  of  our  latest  spring  arrivals,  being 
very  sensitive  to  changes  of  weather.  If  undisturbed, 
these  birds  occupy  the  same  nesting-place  year  after  year, 
building  a  new  nest  every  season,  more  from  necessity 


112  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

than  choice,  as  the  white-footed  mouse  generally  so  uses 
and  abuses  the  old  nest,  during  the  autumn  and  winter, 
that  it  is  usually  demolished  before  the  return  of  the 
birds  the  next  spring.  Now,  I  have  noticed  for  years 
that  the  chats  are  full  of  song  and  very  active  until  the 
young  birds  are  able  to  leave  the  nest ;  and  then  it  usu- 
ally happens  that  within  a  week  or  ten  days  the  whole 
family  will  leave  the  neighborhood. 

After  the  middle  of  July  and  throughout  August  I 
miss  them  from  localities  where  for  ten  weeks  previously 
their  curious  medley  of  sweet  and  discordant  notes  was 
constantly  heard  during  the  live-long  day,  and  often  for 
half  the  night.  This  absence  of  these  birds  was  no  fancy 
upon  my  part,  caused  by  their  silence,  for  many  birds 
cease  singing  when  nesting  is  well  over,  but  was  abso- 
lutely true  of  them.  Careful  search  failed  to  trace  them, 
as  they  had  evidently  left  the  neighborhood.  The  six 
weeks  of  summer  following  the  middle  of  July  prove  to 
be  an  interval  not  in  the  summer  sojourn  of  those  that 
nested  here,  though  it  seemed  so,  because  the  chats  that 
about  September  1st  appear  again  in  our  woods  and 
thickets  are  not  our  old  friends,  but  are  new-comers  that 
have  reached  us  from  more  northern  localities.  Those 
that  nested  here,  returned  to  their  winter  homes  when 
nesting  was  over ;  while  those  that  are  seen  here  in  Sep- 
tember are  those  that,  having  nested  farther  to  the  north 
and  later  in  the  season,  are  now  on  their  return  to  their 
wi  n  t  er-quarters. 

Thus,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  chats  that  nested  in  the 
valley  of  the  Delaware  River  returned  south  as  soon  as 
nesting  was  over ;  while  a  little  later,  the  birds  from  the 
Hudson  and  Connecticut  River  Valleys  came  hither  and 
occupied,  for  a  brief  period,  the  then  chat-deserted  Dela- 
ware Valley.  These  again  proceed  leisurely,  in  their 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         H3 

turn,  on  their  way,  often  lingering  long  in  the  golden 
sunshine  of  sweet  September  days,  but  never  singing 
those  ecstatic  spring-time  notes  that  fairly  start  the  echoes 
of  a  bright  May  morning. 

In  brief,  the  autumnal  or  return  migratory  movement 
of  our  inland  birds  really  commences  in  midsummer  and 
is  from  valley  to  valley,  and  therefore  a  gradual  change 
of  base,  along  the  whole  northern  Atlantic  seaboard. 

I  have  frequently  observed  the  same  thing  in  the 
movements  and  habits  of  the  indigo  bird.  In  this  case, 
also,  there  is  often  a  well-marked  interim,  say  from  the 
middle  of  July  to  the  beginning  of  September.  This 
can  not  be  explained  away  by  suggestions  of  slight 
changes  of  locality,  as  from  uplands  to  swamps,  or  open 
country  to  wooded  districts.  It  is,  rather,  an  interim 
caused  by  the  departure  of  those  that  nested  here  in  May 
and  June  for  some  more  southern  locality.  These  birds 
seem  to  move  with  the  regularity  ascribed  to  swallows, 
and  I  doubt  if  one  in  fifty  of  those  that  are  seen  as  late 
as  September  were  here  during  the  nesting-season.  These 
late  birds,  too,  do  not  haunt  the  brier-patches,  high  weeds, 
and  like  spots ;  but  stay  closely  among  the  taller  trees, 
and  near  their  very  tops  at  that,  sometimes  essaying  a 
feeble  imitation  of  early  summer  warblings.  More  often 
this  song  is  now  but  the  ineffectual  efforts  of  young  birds 
to  anticipate  their  future  capabilities  in  melody. 

Other  equally  marked  changes  in  habits  on  the  part 
of  other  birds  may  be  mentioned  as  further  evidence 
that  migration  is  more  gradual  than  has  been  supposed. 
As  early  as  the  beginning  of  August  both  species  of 
orioles  have  left  their  spring-time  haunts.  Occasionally 
a  male  will  be  seen  pausing  on  the  top  of  some  tall  tree, 
and  whistling  as  he  tarries  for  a  moment ;  but  where  are 
now  the  numbers  of  old  and  young  birds  that  nested  or 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

were  reared  in  the  many  pendent  nests  in  the  elms  and 
willows  ?  Unlike  the  chats  and  indigo  birds,  the  orioles 
do  not  all  depart  from  the  land ;  but,  congregating  in 
loose  flocks,  they  associate  intimately  with  the  reed-birds, 
that  are  now  gathering  by  the  thousands  in  the  uplands, 
preparatory  to  seeking  the  reeds  on  the  river  shore. 
Here  the  orioles  will  remain  until  the  second  or  third 
sharp  frost.  Again,  those  very  unlike  birds,  the  king- 
bird and  blue-bird,  will  together  form  loose  flocks  and 
congregate  in  the  meadows.  This  is  the  more  difficult  to 
understand  as  the  king-bird  is  strictly  migratory,  while 
the  blue-bird  is  only  partly  so ;  and  I  am  positive  that 
the  flocks  of  the  two  species  that  haunt  the  meadows  un- 
til October  are  broken  up  at  last  by  the  king-birds  pass- 
ing southward  and  the  vast  majority  of  the  blue-birds 
returning  to  the  uplands,  where  they  remain  the  winter 
through,  seeking  shelter  from  the  more  violent  storms  in 
the  dense  foliage  of  our  common  cedar. 

These  changes  of  habit,  comparing  May  and  June 
with  August  and  September,  have  doubtless  been  brought 
about  by  the  all-important  question  of  food-supply,  and 
in  the  instance  of  the  birds  last  mentioned,  may  be  looked 
upon  as  the  first  step  in  the  return  migratory  movement, 
especially  as  it  is  a  change  from  higher  and  cooler  up- 
lands to  the  low-lying  and  warmer  shores  of  the  south- 
ward-flowing river,  from  near  the  mouth  of  which  these 
birds  make  an  easy  overland  journey  to  the  valley  beyond. 
In  this  way,  long  before  winter  sets  in  in  the  New  Eng- 
land and  Middle  States,  many  of  our  spring  birds  have 
completed  their  return  journey  home — for  home  it  is  to 
them  when  they  near  the  tropics  or  enter  them. 

If  we  consider  the  several  circumstances  that  would 
necessarily  influence  migratory  movements,  this  actual 
irregularity  in  autumn  is  just  what  might  be  expected. 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         115 

but  in  the  spring,  when  every  bird,  if  possible,  returns 
to  its  own  home  and  former  nest,  they  will  not  linger  on 
the  way,  as  they  know  too  well  the  length  of  the  journey 
before  them.  The  coming  duties  of  incubation,  too,  speed 
them  on,  and  we  wonder  why  they  are  not  more  regu- 
lar in  their  movements.  In  autumn  all  this  is  changed, 
Now  nothing  need  hurry  them,  and,  so  long  as  they  find 
an  abundance  of  food,  they  move  along  leisurely,  just 
keeping  ahead,  as  it  seems,  of  the  chilling  frosts  of  the 
coming  winter,  which  they  can  easily  endure,  but  which 
robs  them  of  the  food  they  must  have.  This  is  espe- 
cially true  of  insect-eating  birds.  Considered  in  this 
light,  we  are  not  surprised  to  find,  then,  as  a  rule,  that 
the  warblers,  swallows,  and  such  other  birds  as  depend 
wholly  upon  insects  for  their  sustenance,  leave  more 
promptly,  and  in  larger  numbers  at  one  time,  than  do 
the  granivorous  birds  and  those  that  can  subsist  on  seeds, 
though  they  consume  insects  as  long  as  they  can  find 
them. 

The  weather,  both  during  September  and  October,  is 
exceedingly  variable,  although  never  really  wintry,  and 
this  fact  makes  the  southward  movements  of  the  migra- 
tory, insect-eating  birds  equally  so,  inasmuch  as  these 
birds  are  not  larvae- hunting  species,  but  depend  upon  in- 
sects that  can  be  caught  upon  the  wing,  or  are  to  be 
found  resting  upon  the  leaves  and  twigs  of  the  trees. 
Therefore,  just  so  long  as  the  heavy  white  frosts  are  de- 
layed, these  insectivorous  birds  will  linger,  or  move 
southward  in  the  most  leisurely  way.  Up  to  a  certain 
time,  usually  about  the  middle  of  October,  these  birds 
largely  increase  in  numbers,  consequent  upon  the  daily 
accession  of  those  from  the  north,  and  after  the  maxi- 
mum is  reached,  their  number  steadily  decreases,  until 
but  a  few  stragglers  remain. 


116  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

I  feel  quite  confident  that  in  exceptionally  mild  sea- 
sons many  more  migratory  birds  winter  in  southern  New 
Jersey  than  ornithologists  suspect ;  and  I  can  see  in  the 
lingering  remnant  of  the  great  flight  of  warblers  that  an- 
nually pass  through  the  State  that  gradual  adaptation  to 
surrounding  conditions,  on  the  part  of  birds,  that  as  cen- 
turies roll  by,  evolve,  by  that  mystery  of  mysteries  the 
survival  of  the  fittest,  new  species  from  the  old. 

Again,  long  after  the  true  insect-eaters  have  passed 
southward,  beyond  the  limits  of  the  State,  and  scarcely  a 
leaf  is  left  upon  the  forest-trees,  when  not  one  straggling 
fly-catcher,  in  a  day's  walk,  can  be  found  hovering  about 
the  many  spots  so  lately  tenanted  by  myriads  of  their 
kind,  we  have  yet  the  pleasure  of  seeing  in  our  rambles 
many  a  blithe  sparrow,  restless  tit,  or  noisy  nut-hatch, 
either  in  the  fields  or  about  leafless  hedges,  or  haunting 
the  still  green  but  nearly  deserted  swampy  meadows  ;  or 
high  up  in  the  lofty  pines,  and  amid  the  thickest  branches 
of  the  gloomy  cedar,  we  may  chance  to  find  hosts  of  merry 
linnets,  full  of  song,  or  fiery  kinglets  that  scold  like 
wrens,  should  you  approach  too  near. 

Of  our  many  sparrows,  of  which  several  are  resident 
species,  I  have  noted  down  for  several  years,  when  the 
severity  of  the  winter  was  yet  to  come,  even  as  late  as 
the  middle  of  December,  the  presence  of  three  or  four 
species  that  may  be  considered  as  migratory.  For  in- 
stance, in  the  wet,  reedy  meadows,  it  is  not  until  winter 
has  incased  in  ice  the  tangled  grasses  that  the  sharp- 
tailed  finch  and  swamp  -  sparrow  quit  their  home.  In 
1872,  and  again  in  1874,  which  latter  year  was  the  most 
remarkable  for  the  number  and  variety  of  birds  of  any  in 
my  memory,  I  noticed  that  in  the  dry,  upland  fields,  all 
through  November's  hazy  Indian  summer,  the  sprightly, 
black -throated  bunting  remained,  in  little  companies; 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         117 

and  in  the  quiet  woodlands  several  retiring  grosbeaks 
were  seen  until  biting  north  winds  drove  them  from  their 
summer  haunts.  The  bobolinks,  in  spite  of  the  persecu- 
tion they  suffer  from  sportsmen,  hold  to  their  reedy 
haunts,  in  scattering  pairs,  often  until  the  first  fall  of 
snow,  and,  this  same  bird  being  occasionally  seen  very 
early  in  the  spring,  may  possibly  remain  during  the  win- 
ter, but  if  so,  it  is  very  rarely.  A  few  red- winged  black- 
birds, we  know,  do  withstand  our  winters,  and  seem  to 
find  food  somewhere  and  somehow,  even  when  the  ther- 
mometer is  at  zero. 

The  difference  between  the  insect-eating  and  the  seed- 
eating  birds,  in  the  more  prolonged  stay  of  the  latter, 
is,  I  think,  easily  explained.  In  the  spring,  when  birds 
journey  north,  there  is  an  object  ever  in  view,  whilst  in 
the  autumn,  their  sole  care  is  to  be  at  home  in  time,  not 
so  much  to  escape  the  coming  cold,  as  to  avoid  being 
pinched  by  hunger. 

"We  have  seen  that  the  first  frost,  though  it  affects  vege- 
tation but  little,  does  materially  decrease  insect  life  ;  the 
swallows,  as  a  rule,  even  anticipate  it,  and  gathering  in 
immense  flocks  they  wing  their  way  southward  before  it 
comes.  From  this,  we  can  clearly  see  that  the  weather 
greatly  influences,  indeed  governs,  the  migratory  move- 
ments in  autumn  of  the  insect-eaters.  It  bids  them  de- 
part, and,  in  general,  they  heed  the  bidding ;  but  long  after 
this,  while  there  are  yet  berries,  seeds,  and  fruits  to  be 
obtained,  the  migratory  vegetarians  linger  by  the  way,  in 
varying  but  considerable  numbers. 

Let  us  now  glance  at  the  abundant  and  well-known 
purple  grakle  or  crow-blackbird.  The  numbers  of  this, 
with  us,  partly  migratory  species  which  remain  through- 
out the  winter,  as  compared  with  those  which  are  here 
during  the  spring  and  summer  months,  are  about  as  ten  to 


118  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

one  thousand,  as  near  as  I  can  judge  ;  and,  in  proportion 
as  the  winter  is  mild,  the  percentage  of  those  that  remain 
is  increased.  In  Massachusetts,  this  bird  is  strictly  mi- 
gratory, the  great  bulk  of  those  that  depart  from  the 
north  and  from  New  Jersey  wintering  in  the  Carolinas 
and  Georgia.  In  this  species,  therefore,  we  have  an 
example  of  a  migratory  bird  that  is  gradually  becoming 
more  and  more  accustomed,  not  to  the  rigors  of  winter, 
which  birds  are  better  able  to  withstand  than  they  are 
generally  supposed  to  be,  but  to  the  methods  of  our  winter 
residents,  such  as  wood-peckers,  jays,  and  titmice,  in  pro- 
curing seasonable  food.  As  a  matter  of  course,  food,  and 
an  abundance  of  it,  must  necessarily  be  obtained,  and,  on 
examination  of  the  stomachs  of  grakles  killed  in  January, 
I  have  found  them  filled  with  a  half-digested  mass  of 
what  appeared  to  be  both  animal  and  vegetable  matter. 
If  the  grakles  that  remain  during  the  winter  are  of  a 
hardier  constitution  than  those  that  migrate,  then,  as  they 
mate  very  early  in  the  year,  and  before  the  great  bulk  of 
the  southern  sojourners  reach  us,  their  offspring  will  nat- 
urally inherit  equally  vigorous  constitutions,  and,  like  their 
parents,  will  be  more  disposed  to  remain — at  least,  a  large 
proportion  of  them  will  be — and  in  this  way,  wholly 
through  natural  selection,  a  race  of  grakles,  otherwise  un- 
distinguishable  from  the  whole  number  of  this  species, 
will  be  evolved,  that  in  time  will  replace,  in  great  part, 
the  now  migratory  and  semi-migratory  individuals.  If  I 
have  correctly  explained  a  change  now  in  progress,  in 
the  habits  of  this  and  other  species,  then  can  we  not  from 
it  gain  a  clew  to  one,  at  least,  of  the  original  causes  of  the 
habit  of  migrating? 

The  act  of  migrating  being  the  passage  from  one  dis- 
tant point  to  another,  it  is  evident  that  the  cause  or 
causes  of  this  movement,  as  the  case  may  be,  operate  at 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         119 

either  terminus  of  the  journey.  A  warbler  that  winters 
in  Florida  and  breeds  near  the  Arctic  circle  is  influenced 
by  a  cause  that  exists  at  each  terminus,  or  rather  by 
two  differing  causes,  each  peculiar  to  the  location,  for  it 
is  wholly  incredible  that  it  is  the  same  cause  that  induces 
both  the  visit  to  northern  regions  and  the  return  to  a 
southern  clime;  therefore  there  must  be  at  least  two 
reasons  for  the  habit — one  inducing  the  bird  to  migrate 
northward  in  the  spring,  another  compelling  it  to  return 
in  the  autumn.  If  it  be  possible  now  to  demonstrate 
what  these  causes  are,  and  how  the  same  cause  can  influ- 
ence all  migratory  birds,  considering  that  their  habits  are 
otherwise  so  totally  different,  it  will  not  then  necessarily 
follow  that  it  was  the  originating  cause  of  the  habit. 
"When,  indeed,  did  this  migration  commence  ?  How  far 
back  into  the  world's  geological  history  must  we  go  to 
trace  the  first  bird  that  was  forced  to  seek  another  and 
far-distant  land  wherein  to  rear  its  young  and  find  for 
its  offspring  and  itself  sufficient  food  ?  "What  conditions 
of  heat  and  cold,  land  and  water,  summer  and  winter, 
then  obtained,  that  birds  must  needs  fly  from  coming 
rigors  of  scorching  sun,  or  ice  and  floods,  or  perish  where 
they  wrere?  Was  it  from  living  in  such  a  world  that 
migration  originated,  and  became,  strangely  enough, 
characteristic  of  only  a  fraction  of  the  whole  number? 
How,  too,  could  birds  have  learned  the  oncoming  of  dis- 
astrous times,  and  know  just  where  to  seek  a  safe  harbor 
and  secure  rest  ?  Clearly  it  could  have  been  only  by  a 
very  gradual  accumulation  of  experiences  extending  over 
many  generations,  before  the  few  progenitors  of  our  many 
birds  gained  the  happy  knowledge  that  here  in  the  north 
we  have  months  of  sunny  summer  weather  and  a  wealth 
of  pleasant  places.  I  shall  not  go  back,  then,  of  the  Gla- 
cial period,  but  rest  content  with  it  as  having  been  the 


120  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

starting-point  in  time  of  birds'  migratory  movements.  The 
progenitor  of  our  score  of  warblers,  the  one  tyrant  fly- 
catcher, from  which  all  our  species  have  sprung,  the 
vireos,  the  goatsuckers,  and  cuckoos,  then  very  few  in 
species,  if  indeed  there  were  more  than  one  of  each,  must 
have  been  influenced  by  the  presence  of  the  icy  barriers 
that  shut  them  off  for  the  time  being  from  a  vast  portion 
of  the  northern  world,  and  at  the  close  or  closing  of  that 
wonderful  period  it  may  be  that  migration  commenced, 
yet  why  and  how  it  is  hard  even  to  conjecture.  Knowing 
that  it  commenced  then  or  recommenced,  if  previously 
a  feature  of  bird  life,  we  have  now  to  inquire  what  are 
its  apparent  causes  at  present ;  but,  before  inquiring  into 
these,  may  we  not,  after  all,  ask  if  migration  be  not  an 
inherited  habit,  the  originating  causes  of  which  are  not 
now  in  operation?  The  conditions  not  obtaining  that 
necessitate  migration,  does  it  not  become  a  case  of  sur- 
vival of  habit,  just  as  in  man  many  customs  now  exist, 
the  origin  arid  proper  meaning  of  which  are  wholly  lost  ? 
That  this  is  true  of  the  migration  of  all  birds  I  do  not 
believe,  but  that  it  partially  holds  good  with  some  species 
I  am  fully  convinced.  As  an  inherited  habit,  but  one 
now  not  absolutely  necessary  to  the  birds'  welfare,  I  can 
see  why  it  should  be,  as  it  frequently  is,  so  greatly  influ- 
enced by  surrounding  circumstances  and  conditions. 

Taking  the  movement  from  its  proper  starting-point, 
which  I  assume  to  be  the  movement  from  south  to  north 
in  the  three  spring  months,  we  must  now  look  for  suf- 
ficient causes  to  induce  the  undertaking  of  such  long  jour- 
neys. These  causes  are  suggested  by  the  two  principal 
objects  effected  on  their  arrival  at  their  northern  destina- 
tion— the  rearing  of  their  young,  and  procuring  suitable 
and  sufficient  food  for  both  themselves  and  offspring. 
If  migration  is  for  these  two  purposes  only,  then  it  should 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         121 

prove  to  be  the  case  that  food  was  not  sufficiently  abun- 
dant in  the  south  for  both  its  resident  and  migratory  birds. 
This  certainly  could  not  have  been  the  case,  and  I  believe, 
therefore,  that  migratory  movements,  at  the  outset,  were 
very  limited  in  extent,  and  consisted  only  of  a  few  birds 
at  a  time,  which,  seeking  to  avoid  their  enemies  and  have 
undisturbed  possession  of  a  locality,  pushed  out  from 
their  accustomed  haunts  for,  comparatively  speaking,  a 
few  miles.  The  young  of  such  pioneer  birds  would 
naturally  leave  the  neighborhood  of  their  nest  and  return 
to  their  parents'  usual  haunt  with  them ;  but,  on  the  re- 
turn of  another  breeding-season,  they  would  themselves 
seek  a  nesting-place  near  where  they  themselves  were 
reared,  and  the  older  birds  would  go  to  the  same  nest  or 
nesting-place  that  they  previously  had  occupied.  This 
is  precisely  what  occurs  now,  year  after  year.  JSTow,  as 
birds  increased,  century  after  century,  the  limits  of  this 
northward  movement  would  be  extended,  until  it  became 
in  time  the  journey  of  thousands  of  miles  that  it  now  is. 

Assuming,  then,  that  migration  arose  for  the  dual 
purpose  of  safe  nidification  and  a  certainty  of  sufficient 
food,  we  are  met  by  the  ugly  question,  "  Why  do  not  all 
the  southern  birds  come  north?"  If,  when  the  whole 
avi-fauna  was  concentrated  at  the  south,  there  was  any 
struggle  whatever  for  favorable  feeding-  or  breeding- 
grounds,  then,  naturally,  the  weaker  would  go  to  the 
wall,  or,  in  other  words,  would  be  driven  beyond  the 
limits  of  their  accustomed  habitat.  These  weaker  birds, 
taken  together,  having  once  formed  the  habit  of  visiting 
certain  localities  at  stated  times  for  given  purposes,  or 
being  periodically  forced  to  do  so,  they  would  vary  in 
their  methods  of  reaching  these  localities,  in  their  choice 
of  regions  wherein  to  remain,  and  in  the  length  of  their 
annual  visit,  just  in  proportion  as  their  habits  generally 


122  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

varied  from  those  of  both  other  species  of  the  same  family 
and  from  species  of  other  families.  For  instance,  to 
avoid  a  common  enemy,  a  number  of  species  might  have 
gradually  learned  to  migrate  at  night ;  while  others,  al- 
though forced  to  migrate,  had  not  this  same  enemy  to 
contend  with,  and  so  traveled  only  by  day.  In  this  way 
the  habit  of  nocturnal  migration  would  long  ago  have 
been  formed,  and  it  would,  by  inheritance,  be  continued 
by  their  descendants,  even  after  the  enemy  had  been  long 
extinct. 

Having  reached  their  northern  summer  homes,  and, 
free  from  molestation,  reared  their  broods,  clearly,  if  all 
things  needed  for  their  comfort  were  to  be  obtained,  it 
can  not  be  supposed  that  these  same  birds  would  unneces- 
sarily retrace  their  long  flight  to  the  distant  south.  This 
suggests  that,  if  I  am  correct  in  assuming  that  birds  first 
appeared  in  a  tropical  climate,  and  from  such  climate 
migration  started,  it  is  probable  that,  by  gradually  pro- 
longing their  northern  visits  and  accustoming  themselves 
to  northern  insect  and  vegetable  life,  these  regions  be- 
came populated  by  their  resident  species.  It  is  evident 
that  the  present  migratory  species  are  simply  compelled 
to  return,  and  three  compelling  causes  are  demonstrable. 
Primarily,  the  sudden  increase  of  cold  at  the  close  of  the 
brief  northern  summer,  which  starts  southward  those 
farthest  at  the  north.  This  accession  of  intense  cold 
necessarily  decreases  the  amount  of  food,  and  the  birds 
are  now  forced  to  find  it  elsewhere.  Farther  and  farther 
south  they  come,  just  in  advance  of  the  cold,  and  slower 
and  slower  they  proceed  as  they  enter  our  more  temper- 
ate latitude,  and  here,  resting  as  it  were,  they  linger 
until  a  keen  frost  kills  their  insect-food,  and,  scattering 
the  leaves,  robs  them  of  their  main  shelter  from  their 
enemies,  happily  fewer  now  than  formerly,  and  now  still 


THE  MIGRATION  OF  INLAND  BIRDS.         123 

southward  they  proceed,  until  they  reach  a  home  in  lands 
blessed  with  perpetual  summer. 

I  have  now  traced  these  migratory  species  from  south 
to  north,  and  back  to  their  southern  habitat,  and  endeav- 
ored to  point  out  the  several  operating  causes  of  the 
movement  as  I  did  so.  I  have  already  suggested  the 
possibility  of  migration  being  an  inherited  habit  not  now 
necessary.  Now,  be  this  true  or  not,  it  is  evident  that 
the  habit  is  not  so  fixed  that  ordinary  changes  in  sur- 
rounding conditions  do  not  greatly  influence  it.  This,  I 
think,  is  shown  by  the  irregularity  of  the  movement  that 
really  occurs,  and  the  tendency  on  the  part  of  many 
species  to  modify  the  habit  by  occasionally  halting  much 
to  the  south  of  their  usual  breeding-grounds,  and  by  re- 
maining later  and  later  in  autumn;  and,  again,  by  the 
fact  that  many  birds  are  now  only  partially  migratory, 
and  that  others  occasionally  migrate  simply  in  search  of 
food,  irrespective  of  seasons,  thus  exhibiting,  as  it  were, 
traces  of  a  habit  they  have  long  lost. 

In  the  migration  of  a  bird,  then,  I  see  simply  a  tem- 
porary sojourn  in  a  distant  locality  for  the  purpose  of 
rearing  its  offspring  in  safety ;  the  cause  being  implied 
by  the  term  "safety,"  that  is,  freedom  from  enemies  and 
an  abundance  of  food. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

A   SHORT   STUDY   OF  BIRDS**   NESTS. 

HAVING  read  with  great  delight  Mr.  Wallace's  essays 
on  the  "  Philosophy  of  Birds'  Nests,"  and  his  theory 
concerning  them,  it  occurred  to  me  to  see  how  far  his 
views  were  applicable  to  the  hundreds  of  nests  that  were 
yearly  built  in  my  favorite  haunts  about  home ;  for, 
whether  I  rambled  by  the  river's  shore,  or  the  wooded 
creek-bank  nearer  by,  in  the  open  meadows  or  the  upland 
fields,  by  the  weedy  angles  of  the  zigzag  fences,  or  in  the 
depths  of  the  woods,  I  soon  noticed  that,  whatever  else 
might  be  wanting,  some  one  kind  of  bird,  at  least,  had 
found  in  every  locality  a  fitting  place  for  its  nest. 

At  first,  there  appeared  to  be  such  a  similarity  in  the 
nests  that  I  almost  came  to  the  conclusion  that  birds  could 
only  construct  them  in  one  manner,  and  were  incapable 
of  varying  from  it ;  that  they  did  not  exercise  any  judg- 
ment in  the  work,  and  that  to-day  their  nests  were  but 
fac-similes  of  those  built  by  their  remotest  ancestors  in 
the  indefinite  past. 

This  idea  of  fixedness  of  habit  was  formerly  very  gen- 
erally, and  to  a  limited  extent  is  still,  taught  as  true  not 
only  of  birds  but  of  all  animals.  It  is  the  natural  out- 
come of  the  old  creative  theory  of  life,  and  is,  I  need 
scarcely  add,  utterly  false. 

"Whatever  may  have  been  the  peculiarities  of  the 
original  bird-like  creature,  before  losing  reptilian  and  as- 


A   SHORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS.  125 

Burning  decidedly  avian  features,  it  certainly  bore  no  re- 
semblance to  any  living  bird,  the  oldest  form  of  which  was 
long  since  evolved  from  a  still  more  primitive  avian,  and 
at  the  same  time  distinctively  reptilian,  creature.  These 
changes  having  been  wrought  in  the  birds  themselves,  it 
would  be  strange  indeed  if  there  had  not  been  a  corre- 
sponding want  of  fixity  in  their  habits. 

As  to  the  general  correctness  of  the  views  of  Mr. 
Wallace  concerning  the  motive  that  causes  certain  birds 
to  build  nests  of  a  particular  pattern,  I  have  no  criticism 
to  make.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  results  given  in  the 
following  pages  will  show  that,  to  a  certain  extent  at 
least,  his  views  will  apply  to  our  birds.  With  these  cau- 
tionary remarks  we  are  now  ready  to  take  up  the  results 
of  my  short  studies  of  the  nests  themselves,  which  were 
originally  made  several  years  ago,  but  which  have  been 
verified  during  each  succeeding  summer. 

Having  carefully  examined  the  nest  of  a  particular 
kind  of  bird,  which  seemed  to  agree  most  nearly  with 
the  published  descriptions,  I  then  noted  each  nest  found, 
and  marked  the  amount  of  variation  in  the  construction 
and  position.  Take,  for  instance,  the  nest  of  our  common 
robin.  Here  we  have  a  nest  largely  constructed  of  coarse 
twigs  and  grass,  lined  with  a  "  cup-shaped  fabric  of  clay 
or  mud,"  this  mud  being  covered  with  finer  grass,  horse- 
hair, and  occasionally  a  few  feathers.  It  is  an  excellent 
nest  to  study,  as  it  shows  fully  the  amount  of  variation 
practiced  in  their  construction.  During  the  spring  and 
summer  of  1873  I  found  thirty-two  of  these  nests  in  an 
area  of  about  four  hundred  acres.  Of  these  thirty-two  I 
shall  speak,  principally  with  reference  to  the  care  exhib- 
ited in  the  mud  lining,  and  refer  but  incidentally  to  their 
positions.  Eleven  of  them  were  what  might  be  called 
"  typical"  ;  as  in  them  the  mud  lining  was  complete,  ex- 


126  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

tending  to  within  an  inch,  or  a  little  more,  of  the  rim  or 
top  of  the  structure. 

In  fourteen,  the  mud  lining  was  more  or  less  incom- 
plete, although  it  always  extended  over  the  bottom  of 
the  nest,  or  of  so  much  of  the  interior  surface  as  was 
necessary  for  the  eggs  or  very  young  birds  to  rest  upon. 
Without  an  exception,  the  fine  grass  and.  hair  lining  the 
interior  of  each  nest  were  in  greater  proportion  as  the 
mud  lining  was  imperfect,  so  that,  in  some  instances,  the 
mud  being  concealed,  the  nests  were  very  similar  to  those 
of  other  thrushes. 

The  remaining  seven  nests  were  "  abnormal,"  each  of 
them  occupying  a  different  position  from  that  which  the 
robin  is  usually  supposed  to  select.  A  careful  study  of 
the  surroundings,  however,  showed  that  there  was  always 
some  outside  advantage,  such  as  immediate  proximity  to 
abundant  food,  which  may  have  had  some  influence  in 
the  choice  of  location.  As  an  instance,  one  of  these 
seven  nests  was  placed  in  a  deep  cleft  in  the  trunk  of  an 
apple-tree.  It  had  a  southern  exposure,  was  protected 
from  rain  by  the  trunk  and  branches  of  the  tree,  and 
altogether  was  admirably  located.  But,  as  the  tree  itself 
had  an  abundance  of  branches,  which  for  many  summers 
had  had  robins'  nests  among  them,  there  seemed  to  be 
some  reason  why  this  particular  location  was  now  occu- 
pied for  the  first  time.  "What  was  the  cause  of  this 
change  from  the  branches  to  the  cleft  I  could  not  dis- 
cover. The  nest  itself  was  merely  a  few  coarse  twigs, 
projecting  about  two  inches  from  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
and  intended  for  the  necessary  support  of  that  portion  of 
the  "  clay  fabric  "  not  resting  upon  the  tree  itself.  When 
completed,  the  structure  much  resembled  a  modified  cliff- 
swallow's  nest,  such  as  these  birds  build  under  the  eaves 
of  barns. 


A  SHORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS.          127 

If  now,  as  Mr.  Wallace  has  pointed  out,  and,  as  I  be- 
lieve, conclusively  shown,  young  birds  build  their  nests 
through  imitation,  then  the  young  robins  reared  in  this 
nest  will  seek  out  somewhat  similar  situations  for  their 
own  nests.  Should  such  a  locality  not  suit  the  bird's 
mate,  then  a  more  exposed  position  would  be  chosen,  as  is 
usually  the  case,  and  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  nest 
in  which  one  of  the  pair  was  reared  would,  I  doubt  not, 
be  retained.  If,  however,  it  should  happen  that  the  pair 
in  question  were  brother  and  sister,  then  it  is  probable 
that  an  identical  nest  would  be  constructed,  if  a  similar 
locality  could  be  found.  Notwithstanding  the  wander- 
ing disposition  of  oar  robins,  it  can  be  shown  that  the 
same  pair,  year  after  year,  return  to  the  same  locality  to 
build  ;  and  if  they,  or  indeed,  if  birds  of  any  kind  remain 
together,  or  having  separated  they  come  again  together, 
year  after  year,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  brood  of  one 
year  may  not  become  more  or  less  associated  during  the 
ensuing  spring,  when  they  may  mate  and  construct  nests 
of  their  own.  I  am  very  positive  that  this  in-breeding 
occurs  very  often  among  resident  species,  and  with  no 
ill  effects.  We  see  it  constantly,  too,  in  our  domestic 
pigeons. 

In  comparing  the  eleven  typical  nests  of  the  robin,  it 
could  not  but  be  noticed  that  minor  differences  or  pecul- 
iarities existed.  These  small  variations  were  in  size, 
which  was  in  fact  considerable  ;  in  shape,  some  of  the 
nests  being  oval  rather  than  circular ;  in  the  choice  of 
material  for  the  interior  lining,  and,  in  one  case,  this 
lining,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  was  surprisingly  like  that  of  a 
chipping-sparrow's  nest,  and  had  probably  been  stolen. 
Indeed,  among  robins,  as  well  as  among  all  other  birds, 
there  are  individual  rogues,  as  well  as  cross-grained,  scold- 
ing wives  and  husbands. 


128  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Taking  a  careful  survey  of  the  whole  thirty- two  nests, 
they  suggested  at  once  an  ordinary  village :  there  were, 
for  instance,  handsome  structures,  and  then  again  very 
modest  ones ;  and  while,  perhaps,  strictly  speaking,  the 
causes  that  produce  this  variation  in  the  dwelling-places 
of  birds  are  not  the  same  as  those  which  lead  to  a  similar 
state  of  affairs  among  mankind,  yet  in  a  remote  degree 
they  are  believed  to  be  in  many  respects  analogous. 
For  instance,  there  are  industrious  birds  and  lazy  ones ; 
plucky  birds  that  are  not  daunted  by  obstacles,  and  de- 
spondent ones  that  are  cast  down  by  shadows ;  and  this 
of  itself  will  account  for  a  great  deal  of  the  variation  in 
birds'  nests.  That  birds  differ  greatly  in  their  tempera- 
ments can  hardly  be  doubted,  and,  if  this  be  admitted, 
may  we  not  go  a  step  further  and  claim  also  differences 
in  mental  capacity,  or,  in  plain  language,  may  we  not 
say  that  the  "  smarter  "  the  bird  the  better  the  nest  ? 

Why  these  nests  of  the  robin  vary,  simply  is — a  mud- 
lined  nest  being  that  which  formerly,  if  not  at  present, 
was  best  suited  to  the  bird's  welfare — that  a  bird  reared 
in  a  poorly  constructed  and  partially  lined  nest  may 
prove  to  be  of  greater  ability  and  more  energetic  than  its 
parents,  and  this,  joined  with  the  fact  that  the  bird's 
mate  may  have  been  reared  in  a  nest  of  perfect  construc- 
tion, of  itself,  would  tend  to  remedy  in  part  the  defects  in 
construction  that  its  partner  might  allow ;  the  facts  to- 
gether would  certainly  secure  an  approach  to,  if  not  the 
complete  attainment  of,  a  typical  robin's  nest.  So,  as  the 
years  roll  by,  the  nest  of  the  robin  would  remain  substan- 
tially the  same  ;  but  what  slight  variations  circumstances 
have  caused  to  be  made,  if  not  detrimental,  would  also 
be  continued,  and,  if  any  marked  changes  of  environment 
occurred,  increased. 

Why,  indeed,  a  robin  should  line  its  nest  with  mud, 


A  SHORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS.          129 

and  its  near  relatives,  the  wood-thrush  and  cat-bird, 
should  not,  is  not  known  ;  but  as  changes  gradually 
brought  about  by  man's  agency  have  already  effected 
changes  in  the  habits  of  some  of  our  birds,  so  these  same 
changes,  ever  in  progress  in  the  haunts  of  the  robin,  may 
cause  these  birds  to  gradually  omit  this  lining  of  mud, 
and  so  make  their  habitations  more  like  those  of  other 
thrushes ;  just  as  the  cliff-swallow,  with  us,  no  longer 
places  a  "  bottle-neck  "  opening  to  its  mud-built  nests. 

There  is  an  instability  in  the  whole  range  of  the  hab- 
its of  birds  going  hand-in-hand  with  the  undoubted  ten- 
dency to  variation  in  their  anatomical  structure,  exces- 
sively slow  as  this  is.  Natural  selection,  or  whatever  may 
be  the  determining  influence  that  governs  it,  controls 
as  surely  the  range  of  variation  in  the  details  of  the  con- 
struction of  their  nests,  inasmuch  as  these  variations  are 
the  inevitable  results  of  changes  wrought  in  the  physical 
construction  of  the  creatures  themselves.  Stripped  of 
the  haze  that  metaphysics  has  gathered  about  it,  the  op- 
erations of  the  mind,  whether  in  man  or  bird,  are  only 
the  curious  results  of  the  working  of  those  fatty  atoms, 
intimately  combined,  which  we  call  the  brain,  and  by  no 
argumentation  can  the  two  be  separated.  They  are  just 
as  interdependent,  and  as  much  parts  of  a  single  whole,  as 
the  eye  and  sight,  the  nose  and  smell,  hearing  and  the 
ear,  the  circulation  of  the  blood  and  the  beating  of  the 
heart. 

A  nest  of  a  totally  different  character,  that  of  the 
Baltimore  oriole,  was  more  carefully  studied,  inasmuch 
as  it  afforded  more  marked  variations  from  what  may  be 
considered  the  typical  form  of  such  a  structure. 

In  the  essays  by  Mr.  "Wallace  ("  On  Natural  Selec- 
tion," by  A.  E.  Wallace,  London,  1STO,  p.  211  et 


130  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

the  conclusion  is  drawn  that,  where  a  nest  is  so  construct- 
ed as  to  conceal  the  sitting  bird,  the  occupant,  in  all  such 
cases,  is  of  bright,  showy  plumage,  and  would  easily  be 
detected'  by  birds  of  prey,  if  not  concealed  when  on  the 
nest.  Of  the  family  Icteridce,  to  which  the  Baltimore  ori- 
ole belongs,  Mr.  Wallace  says  :  "  The  red  or  yellow  and 
black  plumage  of  most  of  these  birds  is  very  conspicuous, 
and  is  exactly  alike  in  both  sexes.  [This  is  not  true  of 
the  Baltimore  oriole,  the  female  of  which  is  much  less 
brightly  colored.]  They  are  celebrated  for  their  fine, 
purse-shaped,  pensile  nests."  Now,  there  are  two  consid- 
erations worthy  of  attention  with  reference  to  this  bird 
and  the  character  of  its  nest.  In  the  first  place,  as  the 
male  bird  is  much  brighter  than  the  female  in  its  plum- 
age, would  it  not  require  a  concealing  nest  if  it  assisted 
in  incubation  ?  Now,  does  the  male  bird  take  part  in 
covering  the  eggs  ?  Unquestionably  it  does.  Secondly, 
if  the  bird-concealing  nest,  a  "  pendulous  and  nearly  cy- 
lindrical pouch,"  is  constructed  solely  with  reference  to 
the  protection  of  the  parent  birds,  would  it  not  be  within 
the  range  of  probabilities  that,  no  danger  existing,  the 
labor  of  constructing  so  elaborate  a  nest  would  be  aban- 
doned ?  Has  this  actually  occurred  ? 

During  the  summer  of  1872, 1  found  nine  nests  of  the 
Baltimore  oriole  within  a  comparatively  small  area  ;  in 
1873,  I  succeeded  in  finding  seventeen  nests  in  an  area 
nearly  ten  times  as  large  ;  and  during  the  summer  of 
1874  I  found  thirteen  nests  in  an  area  of  the  same  extent 
as  that  examined  in  1873. 

These  thirty-nine  nests  I  classified  as  follows :  of  the 
nine  examined  in  1872,  six  were  so  constructed  as  to  ef- 
fectually conceal  the  sitting  bird,  arid  three  were  suffi- 
ciently open  at  the  top  to  give  a  hawk  hovering  above  it 
a  view  of  the  occupant. 


A  SHORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS.  131 

Of  the  seventeen  which  I  found  and  inspected  during 
the  summer  of  1873,  eleven  were  "bird  concealing"  in 
their  shape,  and  the  remaining  six  like  the  three  I  found 
in  1872 — i.  e.,  were  open  at  the  top. 

During  the  summer  of  1874,  Baltimore  orioles  were 
unusually  abundant,  and  of  the  thirteen  nests  found, 
eight  were  open  at  the  top,  and  five  were  long,  pendulous 
pouches  that  wholly  hid  the  sitting  bird. 

Bearing  in  mind  the  supposed  reason  for  building  a 
nest  that  would  conceal  the  parent  birds  when  occupying 
it,  I  noted  down  the  exact  location  of  each  of  these  thirty- 
nine  nests.  In  every  instance,  those  that  concealed  the 
sitting  bird  were  at  a  considerable  distance  from  any 
house,  in  uncultivated  parts,  the  larger  portion  being  on 
an  unfrequented  island ;  the  others  were  on  elm-trees 
growing  on  the  banks  of  a  lonely  creek.  In  both  these 
localities  sparrow-hawks  were  seen  frequently,  when 
compared  with  their  appearance  in  the  neighborhoods 
selected  for  the  building  of  open-topped  nests,  all  of 
which  were  in  willow  and  elm  trees  in  the  yards  of  farm- 
houses, and  in  full  view  of  people  continually  passing  to 
and  fro. 

The  conclusion  drawn  from  the  study  of  these  nests 
was,  that  the  orioles,  knowing  that  there  was  in  this  case 
but  little  danger  from  hawks,  constructed  a  less  elaborate 
nest,  one  which  answered  every  purpose  of  incubation, 
though  it  did  not  conceal  the  parent  birds  when  occupy- 


ing it. 


Of  the  nests  that  did  not  conceal  the  sitting  birds, 
every  one  was  really  open  at  the  top,  and  the  bird  entered 
from  above.  The  weight  of  the  bird  when  in  the  nest 
appeared  to  draw  the  edges  of  the  rim  together  sufficiently 
to  shut  out  all  view  of  the  occupant.  The  rims  of  those 
nests  that  when  occupied  concealed  the  birds  were  all 


132  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

much  smaller,  and  the  nest  itself  was  deeper,  than  were 
any  of  those  nests  where  concealment  was  not  considered 
in  the  construction  ;  these  latter  being  in  every  way  much 
like  the  ordinary  nests  of  the  orchard  oriole. 

Originally,  in  all  probability,  when  its  enemies  were 
more  numerous,  especially  the  smaller  hawks,  the  nest  of 
the  Baltimore  oriole  was  perfectly  closed  at  the  top  and 
had  an  opening  at  the  side  ;  but,  of  the  hundreds  of  these 
nests  that  I  have  seen,  I  have  never  yet  found  one  that 
was  constructed  in  this  manner. 

Perhaps  as  great  a  change  in  the  manner  of  construct- 
ing nests  as  that  given  in  the  case  of  the  Baltimore  ori- 
ole is  shown  in  an  instance  that  occurred  under  rnv 

0 

notice  in  1875,  and  has  since  been  repeated  every  year 
(1880)  by,  probably,  the  same  pair  of  birds.  This  is  the 
construction  of  a  semi-globular,  supported  nest,  in  a  pine- 
tree,  by  the  orchard  or  bastard  orioles.  The  materials 
used  in  building  it  were  the  leaves  of  the  pine,  or  "  pine- 
needles,"  as  we  call  them.  A  few  strands  of  long  grass 
and  a  bit  or  two  of  thread  entered  into  the  rim  of  the 
nest,  and  seemed  merely  to  outline  the  top  and  hold  to- 
gether the  slight  twigs  to  which  the  nest  was  attached. 
The  pine-needles  were  woven  into  a  basket,  and  supported 
by  a  stray  thread  or  a  single  long,  flexible  blade  of  grass, 
placed  here  and  there  through  the  nest.  The  bottom  of 
the  structure  rested  on  a  twig,  so  that  in  no  respect  was 
it  suspended.  While  ordinarily  these  orioles  build  a  less 
carefully  constructed  nest  than  does  the  Baltimore  oriole, 
still  it  is  usually  suspended,  and  made  of  long,  flexible 
grass,  closely  interwoven.  The  nests  in  the  pine-tree, 
on  the  other  hand,  were  remarkable  for  the  almost  total 
absence  of  any  suitable  flexible  materials.  This  could 
not  have  arisen  from  their  absence,  as  Baltimore  orioles 


A  SNORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS.          133 

built  three  nests  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  and  had  no 
trouble  in  finding  as  much  long  grass,  hair,  and  bits  of 
twine  as  they  needed. 

The  nest  of  the  orchard  orioles  made  of  pine-needles 
was  rebuilt  in  the  pine-tree  in  precisely  the  same  man- 
ner in  1878  and  in  1879.  In  1880  two  such  nests  were 
built.  In  1876  and  1877  the  nests  were  built  in  apple- 
trees  near  by,  and  pine-needles  were  used.  Why  the 
pine-tree  was  deserted  for  two  years  is  to  be  explained 
by  the  fact  that,  in  those  years,  a  colony  of  purple  grakles 
occupied  that  and  the  adjoining  trees  during  the  nesting 
season  ;  and,  considering  the  noise  they  made,  night  and 
day,  it  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  orioles  should 
seek  other  localities  for  their  summer  home.  The  grakles 
did  not  appear  in  1878  and  1879,  so  the  orioles  again  had 
the  pine  to  themselves  while  nesting.  In  1881  and  the 
past  summer,  1882,  the  grakles  were  back,  and  no  orioles 
nested  in  the  pine ;  but  I  found  a  nest  of  theirs  in  a  pear- 
tree  near  by,  and  this,  like  all  the  others,  was  made  almost 
wholly  of  pine-needles. 

The  present  nesting-habits  of  the  chimney-swallow 
are  worthy  of  some  consideration,  in  connection  with  the 
subject  of  variation  in  the  nidih'cation  of  birds.  It 
may  be  laid  down  as  a  fixed  habit  of  this  bird,  that,  at 
present,  it  constructs  its  nest  only  in  chimneys.  The  ex- 
ceptional cases  that  have  been  mentioned  recently  are  too 
few  to  render  qualification  of  this  statement  necessary. 
Now,  as  chimneys  have  been  available  less  than  three 
centuries,  where,  prior  to  this,  were  the  nests  of  this  bird 
placed?  Peter  Kalm  says  of  these  birds,  writing  one 
hundred  and  thirty  years  ago  :  "  They  derive  their  name 
from  nests  built  in  chimneys  which  are  not  made  use  of 
in  summer :  sometimes,  when  the  smoke  is  not  very  great, 


134  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

they  do  not  mind  the  smoke,  and  remain  in  the  chimney. 
I  did  not  see  them  this  year  [1749]  till  late  in  May,  but 
in  the  ensuing  year  [1750]  they  arrived  on  the  3d  of 
May,  for  they  appear  much  later  than  the  other  swallows." 
(This  is  not  true  of  them  at  present.  They  invariably 
follow  the  bank-swallow,  and  precede  by  several  days 
the  rest. of  the  swallow  tribes.  The  chimney-swallow, 
furthermore,  is  not  a  true  swallow  but  a  swift,  birds  of 
a  very  different  family,  but  with  similar  habits.)  It  is 
remarkable  that  each  feather  in  their  tail  ends  in  a  stiff, 
sharp  point,  like  the  end  of  an  awl ;  they  apply  the  tail 
to  the  side  of  the  wall  in  the  chimneys,  hold  themselves 
with  their  feet,  and  the  stiff  tail  serves  to  keep  them  up. 
They  make  a  great  thundering  noise  all  the  day  long  by 
flying  up  and  down  in  the  chimneys ;  and,  as  they  build 
their  nests  in  chimneys  "only,  and  it  is  well  known  that 
the  Indians  have  not  so  much  as  a  hearth  made  of  ma- 
sonry, much  less  a  chimney,  but  make  their  fires  on  the 
ground  in  their  huts,  it  is  an  obvious  question,  Where  did 
the  swallows  build  their  nests  before  the  Europeans  came 
and  made  houses  with  chimneys?  It  is  probable  that 
they  formerly  made  them  in  great  hollow  trees." 

This  view  of  Kalm's  is  correct,  as  is  well  known.  I 
had  the  good  fortune  in  1869  to  find  a  "  great  hollow 
tree  "  in  a  piece  of  woodland  that  was  thus  tenanted  by  a 
colony  of  these  birds.  The  nests  did  not  vary  at  all  from 
those  found  in  chimneys.  I  judged  the  cause  of  this  return 
to  the  old-time  habit  of  nesting  in  trees  was  the  fact  that 
the  chimney  of  a  small  house  near  by,  in  which  the  swal- 
lows were  accustomed  to  build,  had  been  closed  to  them 
by  a  wire  netting,  and,  as  the  nearest  available  chimneys 
were  all  tenanted  by  swallows,  these  "shut  out"  birds 
were  forced  to  seek  some  available  locality  in  a  tree  or 
crevice  of  a  rock,  or  else  quit  the  neighborhood.  Ac- 


A  SHORT  STUDY  OF  BIRDS'  NESTS.          135 

cepting  the  only  alternative,  they  availed  themselves  of 
a  hollow  chestnut-tree,  where  they  were,  to  all  appear- 
ance, as  well  suited  as  they  would  have  been  in  their 
former  haunts.  My  curiosity  was  roused  to  know  what 
the  following  summer  would  have  to  show.  Would  they 
return  to  the  tree  ?  In  April  and  May  of  1870,  I  care- 
fully watched  for  them,  but  not  a  swallow  appeared. 

The  nests  of  the  chimney-swallows,  when  placed  in 
hollow  trees,  are,  of  course,  greatly  exposed  to  the  attacks 
of  owls  and  such  carnivorous  mammals  as  are  good 
climbers,  and  it  is  highly  probable  that,  in  the  case  of 
these  birds,  we  have  an  instance  of  birds  thriving  better 
and  increasing  in  numbers,  in  consequence  of  the  envi- 
ronment being  greatly  altered  by  man's  agency.  The 
habit  of  building  nests  of  a  particular  pattern  and  many 
together  has  remained  the  same ;  but,  the  artificial  locali- 
ties offered  being  a  great  improvement  over  anything  in 
.Nature,  the  birds  have  been  correspondingly  benefited. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

THE   SONGS   OF   BIRDS. 

DURING  the  spring  and  summer  of  1874  especially, 
and  at  all  favorable  opportunities  since,  my  out-door 
studies  were  largely  confined  to  particular  phases  of  bird- 
life,  rather  than  to  their  habits  generally.  Most  promi- 
nent among  these  was  that  of  singing,  and  its  relation  to 
the  other  utterances  of  birds  ;  for  I  had  been  long  under 
the  impression,  and  since  am  fully  convinced,  that  a  bird's 
song  bears  just  the  same  relationship  to  its  various  chirps, 
twitters,  and  calls,  that  singing  wTith  mankind  bears  to 
ordinary  conversation. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  any  bright  May  day,  passing, 
on  my  lookout  for  new  arrivals  among  the  migratory 
birds,  along  some  woody  slope  glistening  with  dew  and 
glorious  in  floral  decoration,  I  am  greeted  by  a  loud 
chirp !  In  an  instant  a  hundred  melodious  voices  are 
hushed,  and  not  until  I  have  remained  quiet  for  several 
moments  is  the  concert  resumed ;  then  the  bird  that  gave 
this  warning  call  seeks  some  more  elevated  perch,  and, 
with  head  erect,  he  again  takes  up  the  strain.  Another 
and  another  songster  joins  in  the  chorus,  and  again  the 
woods  ring  with  the  united  voices  of  thrushes,  wrens,  spar- 
rows, and  warblers  beyond  count. 

It  may  be  objected,  at  the  very  outset,  that  all  are  not 
singing  birds,  and  the  fact  of  non-singing  birds  outnum- 
bering the  others  disposes  effectually  of  my  theory. 


THE  SONGS  OF  BIRDS.  137 

"  Whoever  heard  an  owl  sing  ? "  is  asked  in  derision. 
Well,  my  good  friend,  do  you  call  the  shrill,  cacophonous 
shouts  of  savages  singing  \  Yet  we  know  that  to  these 
same  savage  peoples  their  weird  cries  and  monotonous 
drumming  are  as  melodious  as  the  best  efforts  of  a  prima 
donna  are  to  us.  While,  as  we  understand  melody,  some 
species  of  birds  are  endowed  with  marked  musical  abil- 
ities and  others  are  devoid  of  them,  it  does  not  follow 
that  the  latter  have  not  a  series  of  notes  or  utterances 
pleasurable  to  themselves  and  to  their  fellows.  To  deny 
this  is  really  to  assert  that  some  birds  are  gifted  with 
song  for  man's  pleasure  instead  of  for  their  own.  This  is 
a  common  expression,  I  know,  but  it  is  utterly  absurd. 
Careful  observation  will  enable  any  one  to  see  clearly 
that  every  bird  has  a  considerable  range  of  utterance, 
which  is  divisible  into  cries  or  expressions  of  various 
kinds,  each,  of  course,  having  a  different  and  uniform 
meaning.  Some  of  the  low,  monotonous  notes  of  brood- 
ing birds  are  evidently  uttered  for  their  soothing  effect 
upon  themselves,  their  mates  and  young,  and  are  only 
heard  during  the  nesting  season.  The  truth  is,  a  bird 
can  only  be  rightly  understood  by  a  bird,  and  a  naturalist 
must  spend  years  in  patient  watching,  often  for  days  to- 
gether, and  must  have  made  himself  familiar  to  the  birds, 
before  he  can  witness  a  tithe  of  the  many  acts  which  go 
to  prove  that  they  approach  nearer  to  reasoning  beings 
than  is  generally  supposed. 

Space  does  not  allow  me  to  give  all  the  details  that  I 
have  jotted  down  during  my  rambles  about  home,  and  I 
must  content  myself  with  an  occasional  extract  from  my 
note-book,  in  the  effort  to  interpret  briefly  the  songs  of 
many  of  our  birds. 

Including  some  twenty  species  of  warblers,  more  or 
less  regular  in  their  yearly  appearance,  there  are  in  Cen- 


138  E AMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

tral  New  Jersey  fifty-four  birds,  resident  and  migratory, 
that  can  be  considered  as  strictly  singing  birds.  These 
may  with  perfect  propriety  be  classed  in  accordance  with 
their  peculiar  temperaments,  as  VIVACIOUS,  SPRIGHTLY,  or 
DULL;  meaning  thereby  to  express  three  degrees  of  ani- 
mation in  their  songs.  As  instances  of  the  first  may  be 
named  the  house-wren  and  Baltimore  oriole,  the  song- 
sparrow  and  indigo  bird  belong  to  the  second  class,  and 
in  the  third  are  to  be  found  the  bluebird  and  the  peewee. 
Now,  the  songs  of  these  birds  can  not  in  any  sense  be 
looked  upon  as  a  uniform  series  of  notes — a  stereotyped 
whistle  or  an  unvarying  warble,  as  is  said  of  them  by 
the  late  Dr.  Holland  in  the  following  stanzas : 

"  The  robin  repeats  his  two  musical  words, 
The  meadow-lark  whistles  his  one  refrain  ; 
And  steadily,  over  and  over  again, 
The  same  song  swells  from  a  hundred  birds." 

"  Bobolink,  chick-a-dee,  blackbird,  and  jay, 

Thrasher  and  woodpecker,  cuckoo  and  wren, 
Each  sings  its  word  or  its  phrase,  and  then 
It  has  nothing  further  to  sing  or  to  say." 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  do  have  other  songs  to  sing, 
and  do  find  plenty  to  say  when  occasion  requires.  While 
as  a  rule  the'  song  of  any  bird,  when  once  known,  can 
usually  be  recognized  when  heard  a  second  time,  yet  this 
is  not  always  the  case,  for  the  reason  that  our  songsters 
do,  at  times,  vary  their  notes  in  the  most  striking  man- 
ner. This  is  such  a  frequent  occurrence,  and  is  so  uni- 
versally true  of  our  song-birds,  as  effectually  to  disprove 
the  assertion  that  they  have  "  nothing  further  to  sing  or 
to  say." 

As  has  been  said,  the  various  songs  of  the  fifty  odd 
kinds  of  singing  birds  can  be  readily  placed  under  one 


THE  SONGS  OF  BIRDS.  139 

or  the  other  of  these  three  headings;  and,  curiously 
enough,  in  every  case  the  song  is  indicative  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  bird  or  vice  versa.  Unquestionably  there  is 
a  close  connection  between  the  song  and  temperament ; 
in  fact,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  law  that  the  latter  de- 
cides the  character  of  the  former.  This  has,  I  think,  a 
strong  bearing  on  the  question  of  the  origin  of  the  songs 
themselves,  as  I  do  not  entertain  the  suggestion  that  some 
birds  were  created  songsters,  while  others  were  denied 
this  power.  Rather,  it  seems  to  me  that,  from  cries  of 
alarm,  and  quick,  hearty  chirps  expressive  of  satisfaction, 
there  have  been  evolved  the  melodious  notes  of  our  most 
accomplished  songsters.  Why  may  not  this  be  so  ?  Cer- 
tainly by  analogous  processes  our  present  civilization  has 
produced  in  time  the  elaborate  music  of  the  present 
day,  from  the  harsh,  discordant  attempts  at  melody  on 
the  part  of  existing  savage  races,  just  as  they  were  the 
outcome  of  still  ruder  sounds  in  which  man's  primeval, 
pre-human  ancestry  indulged. 

Let  us  now  consider  for  a  moment  one  fact  in  regard 
to  these  songs  that  separates  them  from  the  other  utter- 
ances of  birds,  and  that  is,  that  the  bird  sings  solely  for 
the  pleasure  of  listening  himself,  or  of  being  listened  to 
by  his  fellows,  and  the  song  bears  no  relation  whatever 
to  any  of  his  preceding  or  subsequent  movements.  From 
this  it  would  appear  that  the  song  of  a  bird  is  an  expres- 
sion that  gives  pleasure  to  the  bird  itself  and  to  others 
of  its  kind,  which  latter  fact  is  recognized  by  the  singer, 
and  thus  affords  him  additional  satisfaction.  In  brief, 
the  reason  that  birds  sing  is  precisely  the  same  as  that 
which  induces  man  to  cultivate  music,  which,  by  the  way, 
was  originally  exclusively  vocal. 

We  shall  now  turn  to  the  other  class  of  utterances  of 
these  same  birds,  and  carefully  note  them  down  in  all 


140  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

their  variations.  There  is  in  them  material  for  months 
of  careful  study,  and  any  one  who  has  an  opportunity  to 
listen  to  a  pair  of  newly-mated  birds  will  be  struck  with 
amazement  at  the  great  variety  of  sounds,  all  evident 
expressions  of  the  varied  mental  impressions  of  the  mo- 
ment. These  "  notes,"  as  we  may  call  them,  are  usually 
low,  and  many  are  scarcely  audible,  unless  we  happen  to 
get  very  near  the  birds  and  yet  remain  unseen. 

In  this  whole  class  of  sounds  other  than  the  true  song, 
we  have  a  guide  to  their  proper  interpretation  in  the  very 
evident  fact  that  all  such  single  expressions,  as  chirps, 
trills,  twitters,  and  shrill  cries,  are  always  accompanied 
by  movements  which  are  closely  related  to  them.  A 
bird  singing,  except  during  courtship,  when  gymnastics 
are  indulged  in,  does  not  busy  itself  with  anything  else 
at  the  same  time.  Thus,  for  instance,  if  busy  feeding, 
at  the  moment  of  inspiration,  it  quits  its  search  for  food, 
and,  taking  up  a  suitable  position,  it  begins  its  song  and 
keeps  it  up  until  wearied  with  the  repetition  or  called 
by  its  mate,  or,  struck  by  a  sudden  thought,  away  it  goes, 
to  work  it  may  be,  or  else  it  flies  off  to  some  distant 
place.  When,  however,  it  is  busy  hunting  for  food,  the 
low  chirps  and  an  occasional  twitter  that  accompany  the 
search  indicate,  if  alone,  that  it  is  talking  to  itself,  or,  if 
with  company,  that  it  is  talking  to  them ;  for  a  bird  sur- 
rounded by  others,  or  in  company  with  its  mate,  will 
chirp  more  loudly  and  with  a  greater  variation  of  notes 
than  when  alone.  If  disturbed  at  such  a  time,  how  dif- 
ferent an  utterance  is  heard !  "Who  can  doubt  the  mean- 
ing of  a  frightened  bird's  alarm-cry  ?  And  how  quickly 
is  it  responded  to  on  the  part  of  all  the  birds  within  hear- 
ing? 

Probably  the  most  marked  instance  of  a  difference  in 
the  habits  that  accompany  the  chirp  and  the  song  proper 


THE  SONGS  OF  BIRDS.  141 

can  be  seen  in  the  chewink  or  towhee  bunting.  This 
bird  keeps  upon  the  ground  nearly  the  whole  time.  Its 
nest  is  always  there,  and  its  food  is  found  under  dead 
leaves  lying  upon  the  ground.  Now,  while  it  hops  about, 
it  utters,  with  much  regularity  and  frequency,  a  double 
chirp,  which  has  given  rise  to  its  local  name,  che-wink. 
A  person  might  watch  one  of  these  birds  for  half  a  day 
and  never  suspect  that  it  had  any  song  or  other  note 
than  the  cheery  che-wink,  che-wink,  it  so  frequently 
utters.  It  so  happens,  however,  that  it  has  a  moderately 
sweet  song,  though  it  never  yet  was  known  to  sing  it 
while  standing  upon  the  ground.  If  moved  to  sing,  it 
mounts  upon  a  low  bank  or  on  the  lower  limb  of  a  tree, 
and  whistles,  "Chee-do  !  chee-do  !  tree-de-re  de-re,  de-re  !  " 
and  then  down  on  the  ground  it  goes  again. 

The  plain  meaning  of  this,  I  take  it,  is  that  the  chirps 
are  not  a  song,  nor  are  they  intended  by  the  bird  as  such, 
but  that  the  more  elaborate  notes,  uttered  when  in  a  bush 
or  tree,  do  constitute  his  song,  and  this  he  sings  for  the 
gratification  of  himself  and  friends. 

Again,  observe  two  birds  immediately  after  mating, 
and  what  a  laughable  caricature  of  a  newly-married  cou- 
ple— say  on  their  wedding  journey — are  their  actions  and 
their  low  ceaseless  twittering  !  They  also  have  their 
petty  vexations  and  their  little  quarrels,  in  which  the 
feminine  voice  is  ever  the  louder  and  more  rapid  in  its 
utterance,  and  its  owner  enjoys  the  precious  privilege  of 
the  last  word. 

I  have  often  witnessed  such  quarrels,  and  the  literally 
hen-pecked  husband  has  always  been  compelled  to  sub- 
mit to  his  tyrannical  partner.  If  he  be  lazy,  woe  betide 
him  when  nest-building  commences,  as  it  does  so  soon 
after  mating.  His  gay  feathers  will  soon  lose  their 
prim  appearance,  and  mayhap  only  the  fraction  of  a  tail 


14:2  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

will  be  left  him,  but,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  will  cheer  his 
brooding  mate  with  his  choicest  songs ;  singing,  I  have 
sometimes  thought,  with  greater  fervor  from  the  con- 
sciousness that  his  wife  is  too  busy  at  home  to  bother 
him. 

But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  language  ?  Just  this, 
that  it  depends  on  the  manner  in  which  things  go  on 
between  the  birds,  whether  the  chirps  and  twitters  are 
low,  musical,  and  deliberately  uttered,  or  whether  they 
are  shrill,  cacophonous,  and  so  rapidly  repeated  that  the 
birds,  if  unseen,  can  not  be  recognized  by  their  voices. 

But  it  may  be  urged  that,  to  constitute  language,  or 
something  akin  to  it,  these  chirps  and  twitters  must  be 
shown  to  convey  ideas.  Can  one  bird  tell  another  any- 
thing ?  it  will  be  asked.  To  this  I  answer  that,  if  any  one 
has  watched  a  colony  of  brooding  grakles,  or  paid  close 
attention  to  a  flock  of  crows,  he  has  probably  satisfied 
himself  upon  this  point.  Crows  have  twenty-seven  dis- 
tinct cries,  calls,  or  utterances,  each  readily  distinguishable 
from  the  other,  and  each  having  an  unmistakable  con- 
nection with  a  certain  class  of  actions  ;  some  of  which,  as, 
for  instance,  the  many  different  notes  of  the  brooding- 
birds,  are  only  heard  at  certain  seasons.  In  this  connec- 
tion, it  may  be  added  that  the  intelligence  of  crows  is 
fully  one  half  greater  than  that  of  any  other  bird  in  our 
fauna.  Instances  of  the  exercise  of  much  cunning  and 

O 

forethought  on  their  part  are  almost  innumerable. 

Let  us  see,  however,  if  among  our  singing-birds  there 
is  not  to  be  found  evidence  of  an  ability  to  communicate 
ideas,  presumably  by  the  aid  of  vocal  sounds.  Here  is 
an  occurrence  that  took  place  in  my  presence  in  the 
spring  of  1872.  A  pair  of  cat-birds  were  noticed  carry- 
ing materials  for  a  nest  to  a  patch  of  blackberry-briers 
hard  by.  To  test  their  ingenuity,  I  took  a  long,  narrow 


THE  SONGS  OF  BIRDS.  143 

strip  of  muslin,  too  long  for  one  bird  to  carry  conven- 
iently, and  placed  it  on  the  ground  in  a  position  to  be 
seen  by  the  birds  when  searching  for  suitable  materials 
for  their  nest.  In  a  few  moments  one  of  the  cat-birds 
spied  the  strip  and  endeavored  to  carry  it  off,  but  its 
length  and  weight,  in  whichever  way  the  bird  took  hold 
of  it,  and  he  tried  many,  impeded  its  flight.  After  wor- 
rying over  it  for  some  time  the  bird  flew  off,  not,  as  I 
supposed,  to  seek  other  materials,  but,  as  it  proved,  to  ob- 
tain assistance  in  transporting  the  strip  of  muslin  in  ques- 
tion. In  a  few  moments  it  returned  with  its  mate,  and 
then,  standing  near  the  strip,  they  held  what  I  consider 
to  have  been  a  consultation.  The  chirping,  twittering, 
murmuring,  and  occasional  ejaculations  were  all  unmis- 
takable. In  a  few  moments  this  chattering,  if  you  will, 
ceased,  and  the  work  commenced.  Each  took  hold  of  the 
strip  of  muslin  at  about  the  same  distance  from  the  ends, 
and,  starting  exactly  together,  they  flew  toward  their  un- 
finished nest,  bearing  the  prize  successfully  away. 

I  followed  them  as  quickly  as  possible,  and,  reaching 
the  brier-patch,  never  before  or  since  heard  such  an  in- 
terminable wrangling  and  jabbering.  Had  I  not  seen 
the  birds,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  recognized  them 
from  their  voices.  The  poor  birds  simply  could  not 
agree  how  to  use  so  long  a  piece  of  material  to  the  best 
advantage.  If  it  had  been  shorter,  they  might  have  made 
it  serviceable ;  but  as  it  was,  being  neither  willing  to  dis- 
card it  nor  able  to  agree  as  to  its  proper  use,  they  finally 
abandoned  it  altogether,  and  so  too  they  did  the  unfin- 
ished nest  and  the  neighborhood. 

From  what  has  been  said,  I  can  not  see  how  birds  can 
logically  be  denied  language.  A  hundred  instances  sim- 
ilar to  this  in  the  essential  details  occur  every  spring  day, 
and  they  all  prove  that  a  bird  has  some  means  of  commu- 


14A  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

nicating  its  thoughts  to  its  companions ;  and,  as  we  know 
that  they  have  a  large  range  of  utterances,  is  it  not  pre- 
sumable that  these  are  in  large  part  the  media  by  which 
their  thoughts  are  expressed  ?  We  can  only  judge  by  the 
same  standard  which  we  apply  to  man,  and,  when  so 
judged,  it  must  I  think  be  admitted  that  birds  have  a 
spoken  language. 

We  have  also  seen  that  these  various  utterances  are 
only  expressed  when  the  bird  is  occupied,  and  that  their 
songs  proper  are  only  sung  when  the  bird  is  quiet  or  giv- 
ing its  whole  attention  to  the  act  of  singing,  for  the  fact 
that  they  often  sing  while  flying  does  not  contradict  this ; 
and  these  facts,  it  is  believed,  are  sufficient  to  show  that 
birds,  like  mankind,  sing  for  pleasure  and  talk  from  ne- 
cessity. 

My  own  observations  have  led  me  to  this  conclusion. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CHATS   AND   WKENS  :    A   SUMMERS    STUDY. 

I  FIEST  saw  the  chat  on  Sunday,  May  9,  1874.  From 
the  topmost  branch  of  a  tall  locust  he  sailed,  with  unsteady 
wings  and  dangling  legs,  upward  and  outward  for  some 
distance,  uttering  a  few  harsh  squeaks,  and  then  alighting, 
he  warbled  a  series  of  sweet,  liquid  notes,  followed  in  turn 
by  sounds  like  the  yelp  of  a  puppy,  the  squeak  of  a  squir- 
rel, or  the  dull  creaking  of  a  rusty  weather-vane.  Then, 
hopping  from  twig  to  twig,  searching  for  insects,  he  added 
his  own  peculiar  chirp,  alternated  with  low  yet  distinct 
notes,  quite  indescribable,  but  all  hollow,  ghost-like,  and 
gloomy.  These  weird,  mournful  groans,  plaintive  calls, 
and  cries  as  of  some  poor  creature  in  distress,  would  fol- 
low each  other  in  quick  succession,  when,  suddenly  ceas- 
ing, an  outburst  of  glorious  melody  would  complete  the 
strange  series.  Then,  having  regained  his  perch  upon  the 
topmost  branch,  the  restless  bird  would  remain  quiet  for 
a  moment,  when,  with  the  same  awkward,  crooked  flight, 
he  would  repeat  the  same  series  of  strange  and  sweet  notes, 
with  some  little  variation  of  the  uncouth  sounds  he  se- 
lected for  imitation. 

While  I  listened,  wondering  what  next  would  greet 
my  ears,  I  was  surprised,  even  startled,  by  hearing  the 
same  strange  sounds  repeated,  but  at  some  distance  off. 
Another  chat,  farther  down  the  path,  was  singing  in  the 
same  strange  way — another  it  must  be,  for  the  one  first 
7 


146  KAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

heard  is  still  in  sight  on  the  same  locust-tree,  flitting  care- 
lessly about  and  apparently  silent.  Curious  to  hear  the 
new-comer,  I  passed  on,  when  the  sounds  were  heard  in 
the  opposite  direction.  I  retraced  my  steps,  and  now  the 
strange  medley  came  from  the  low  bushes  about  me,  and, 
while  looking  carefully  for  the  unseen  chat  that  seemed 
so  near,  there  came  floating  down  to  me  from  the  tall 
locust's  topmost  branch  the  same  series  of  odd  sounds  and 
sweet  warblings.  The  truth  was  now  clear :  the  one  bird 
had  uttered  every  sound  I  had  heard,  and  by  his  ventrilo- 
quism had  for  the  time  completely  deceived  me.  My 
study  of  this  habit  and  its  use  now  commenced,  and  for 
long  weeks  I  watched  him,  to  test  in  every  way  his  ability 
to  mislead  one  by  the  exercise  of  this  peculiar  power. 
On  the  13th  of  the  month,  a  second  chat  appeared,  and  the 
two — for  the  new-comer  was  a  female — quickly  selected 
a  suitable  spot  in  a  tangled  mass  of  blackberry  briers  at 
the  foot  of  the  locust-tree,  and  built  a  commodious  but 
roughly  constructed  nest.  While  his  mate  was  sitting,  the 
male  chat  seemed  more  animated  than  ever,  and,  jealous 
of  every  intruder,  he  "  threw  his  voice  "  in  eveiy  direction 
other  than  toward  the  nest  whenever  any  one  came  too 
near.  On  concealing  myself  and  getting  very  close,  I 
found,  by  watching  for  an  hour  or  more  at  a  time,  that 
when  undisturbed  they  uttered  fewer  cries  of  other  crea- 
tures, and  seldom  exercised  their  ventriloquial  powers. 
Their  song  was  varied  and  at  times  grand,  but  usually 
the  cheerful  notes  were  so  intermingled  with  hollow,  se- 
pulchral tones,  not  of  an  imitative  character,  as  to  render 
the  entire  utterance  far  from  pleasing.  I  never  could  so 
startle  the  bird  that  it  would  simply  give  a  quick  chirp 
of  alarm  and  fly  off.  However  suddenly  I  appeared  from 
my  concealment,  there  was  an  equally  quick  uttering  of 
notes  of  distress  such  as  I  have  described,  coming  from, 


CHATS  AND    WRENS. 

it  seemed,  a  point  several  yards  distant.  Vary  my  exper- 
iments as  I  would,  it  mattered  not :  the  bird  was  thor- 
oughly conscious  of  its  ventriloquial  power,  and  trusted 
far  more  to  it  than  to  flight  to  avoid  and  mislead  any 
intruder. 

How  came  this  bird  to  possess  so  unusual  a  power  ? 
This  I  shall  leave  for  others  to  determine,  with  this  one 
suggestion  :  having  closely  'observed  a  pair  of  these  birds 
during  the  entire  summer,  I  discovered  that  the  habit  is 
eminently  useful  to  them,  and  is,  I  think,  possessed  by 
the  male  only,  though  upon  this  point  I  am  not  positively 
certain. 

When  it  is  recollected  that  many  of  our  birds — nota- 
bly the  mocking-bird  and  cat-bird — mimic  not  only  the 
notes  of  other  songsters,  but  sounds  of  almost  every  de- 
scription, and  that  perhaps  all  gregarious  birds  post  senti- 
nels to  sound  alarm  on  the  approach  of  an  enemy,  it  is 
evident  that  all  the  vocal  powers  of  birds  are  not  brought 
into  play  simply  for  their  own  satisfaction  or  for  that  of 
their  mates;  for  there  is  a  wide  difference  between  a 
bird's  song  and  its  ordinary  chirping  and  twittering. 
During  the  lapse  of  ages  they  have  learned,  through  ex- 
perience, something  of  the  laws  of  sound,  and  they  know 
fully  as  well  as  man  does  that  certain  notes  can  be  heard 
at  a  greater  distance  than  others.  This  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  birds,  when  giving  an  alarm-cry,  utter  the  note 
with  a  penetrating  shrillness,  not  common  in  any  of  their 
ordinary  chirps  or  song.  This  knowledge  of  one  of  the 
properties  of  sound,  simple  as  it  is,  is  the  starting-point 
in  the  acquirement  of  the  power  of  mimicry,  which  is 
the  intermediate  stage  between  ordinary  vocal  utterances, 
including  songs,  and  that  ventriloquial  power  which  we 
have  seen  is  possessed  in  great  perfection  by  the  chat. 

Now,  as  this  bird  imitates  very  many  sounds,  it  seems 


148  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

clear  that  the  simple  power  of  mimicry  must  have  been 
first  gained,  and  that  the  ventriloquial  power,  or  the 
power  to  repeat  a  sound  so  as  to  make  it  seem  as  if  it 
were  uttered  somewhere  else,  was  a  subsequent  acquisition. 
Such  an  addition  to  the  power  of  mimicking  other  birds 
and  the  cries  of  small  mammals  would  at  once  prove 
advantageous  in  misleading  a  pursuing  enemy,  as,  for 
instance,  a  small  hawk ;  and  the  chat  would  not  be  slow 
to  learn  this,  and  to  profit  by  the  knowledge.  In  this 
way  a  new  habit  readily  becomes  characteristic  of  a  spe- 
cies, first  locally,  and  then  throughout  the  entire  extent 
of  its  haunts. 

A  word  in*  conclusion  concerning  the  vocal  powers 
of  the  chat.  While  it  is  true  that  these  birds  sing  a  good 
deal  by  day,  yet  it  is  not  until  after  sunset  and  during 
the  night,  especially  if  there  be  a  moon,  that  they  are 
merriest ;  and  a  more  joyous  strain  never  came  from  the 
bobolink  than  that  which  is  then  uttered  by  the  chats. 
But,  alas !  this  melody  is  so  often  spoiled  by  a  comming- 
ling of  mournful  sounds,  that  it  is  not  surprising  the 
Indians  should  have  called  them  the  "  ghost-birds." 

About  the  middle  of  June  the  young  birds  had  left 
the  nest,  though  they  still  continued  with  the  parent 
birds,  and  were  fed  by  them.  From  this  time  until 
August,  when  both  old  and  young  left  the  neighborhood, 
I  failed  to  detect  any  attempt  even  at  singing  on  the  part 
of  the  young ;  and  the  more  marked  features  of  the  song 
of  the  parent  birds  were  but  seldom  heard  after  the  young 
had  obtained  a  sufficient  flight-power  to  insure  their 
safety.  This  would  seem  to  lead  to  the  inference  that 
both  the  mimicry  and  the  ventriloquism  were  exercised 
by  the  male  for  the  purpose  of  securing  safety  to  the 
young  and  to  the  female  while  upon  her  nest ;  as  the 
occasional  exhibitions  of  song  on  his  arrival  in  spring 


CHATS  AND    WRENS.  149 

were,  I  suppose,  given  at  first  for  his  own  satisfaction, 
and  afterward,  when  the  females  had  arrived,  these  tests 
of  his  power  were  intended  for  their  gratification. 

Let  us  now  consider  a  very  different  bird — one  not 
common  in  New  Jersey,  or,  at  least,  very  "  local "  in  its 
distribution. 

About  the  middle  of  July,  when  most  birds  had  long 
finished  their  nesting-labors,  a  pair  of  Bewick's  wrens 
appeared  in  and  about  one  of  my  out-buildings,  and,  in 
a  day  or  two,  having  fixed  upon  a  suitable  spot,  began 
to  build  their  nest.  As  they  were  not  at  this  time  at 
all  timid,  I  had  abundant  opportunities  of  watching  them 
while  so  employed,  and  I  must  admit  that  there  was 
nothing  poetical  in  their  modus  operandi.  After  the 
first  few  strands  of  long,  tape-like  grass  had  been  arranged 
upon  a  beam,  the  birds  came  to  the  spot  together,  each 
carrying  a  blade  of  grass  or  other  equally  flexible  material. 
The  female  then  sat  in  the  unfinished  nest,  arranging  the 
materials,  while  her  mate  brought  others,  some  of  which 
he  apparently  wound  loosely  about  her.  This  continued 
until  the  foundation  and  sides  were  completed.  When 
finishing  off  the  nest  the  female  remained  in  and  about 
it,  while  her  mate  was  in  quest  of  such  soft  materials  as 
he  could  find.  These  were  simply  laid  in  the  bottom  of 
the  nest,  and  received  no  special  attention  until  a  consid- 
erable quantity  had  been  piled  up,  when  the  female  bur- 
rowed into  it,  and,  as  I  judged,  kept  turning  round  and 
round  in  it,  until  she  had  succeeded  in  making  a  com- 
paratively smooth  depression  in  it,  just  fitted  to  her  body. 
The  larger  strands  on  the  outside,  which  had  heretofore 
appeared  of  no  use,  were  now  rudely  twisted  into  the 
sides  of  the  nest  and  carried  up  until  they  formed  a  sort 
of  arch,  scarcely  close  enough  to  form  a  roof,  or  to  make 
of  the  entire  structure  a  globular  nest,  like  that  of  the 


150         RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

marsh-wren.  In  three  days  the  work  was  completed, 
and  was  not  better  than  any  child  could  have  made  with 
the  same  material,  wrapping,  winding,  and  fitting  them 
over  his  fist.  Not  one  particle  of  ingenuity  was  displayed 
at  any  time.  On  the  fourth  day  the  first  egg  was  laid, 
and  on  this  day  a  cat  succeeded  in  catching  the  male 
bird.  As  the  female  did  not  seem  to  miss  him  very 
much,  and  as  it  was  this  mishap  that  made  the  subsequent 
study  of  the  nest  and  female  bird  possible,  I  did  not  ob- 
ject to  the  interference.  The  widowed  wren  wandered 
about  quite  as  usual,  constantly  uttering  a  very  cheery 
chirp,  and  gathering  up  a  goodly  quantity  of  insects 
every  day.  One  egg  was  laid  each  day,  until  four  had 
been  deposited,  when  she  commenced  sitting.  The  fourth 
egg  was  pure  white,  the  others  of  the  usual  color  and 
markings.  An  interesting  physiological  question  here 
arises  which  may  be  briefly  referred  to.  This  species  of 
wren  usually  lays  from  seven  to  nine  eggs,  and  hatches 
them  all.  Did,  in  this  case  of  the  widowed  wren,  the 
influence  of  the  male  only  reach  to  the  third  or  possibly 
the  fourth  egg  ?  Of  the  four  eggs  laid,  the  last  did  not 
hatch,  and  I  judged  from  its  contents  that  the  yolk  had 
been  imperfect.  Again,  did  the  death  of  the  male  bird 
indirectly  cause  the  shell  of  the  fourth  egg  laid  to  be 
wholly  colorless  ?  The  season  was  too  far  advanced  to 
make  any  additional  observations,  and  I  may  add  further- 
more that  this  is  the  only  instance  I  ever  knew  of  a  bird 
continuing  to  sit  after  the  death  of  her  mate. 

After  the  young  wrens  were  but  a  day  old,  the  parent 
bird  was  seldom  seen  except  for  a  moment  at  a  time, 
when  she  would  dart  into  the  outbuilding  through  a  knot- 
hole in  one  of  the  weather-boards,  with  a  supply  of  food 
for  her  young.  Then  off  she  would  go  again,  usually  to 
the  low  roof  of  an  adjoining  building,  and  there  would 


CHATS  AND   WEENS.  151 

chirp  most  shrilly  if  any  one  happened  to  be  near,  flutter- 
ing the  while  in  a  most  distressed  manner,  as  though  de- 
termined to  make  those  who  might  be  passing  believe 
that  she  had  a  nest  up  on  the  roof,  or  anywhere,  except  in 
the  spot  where  it  really  was.  This  habit  was  so  marked 
as  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  members  of  my  family ; 
and,  if  the  out-building — a  work-shop  which  was  continu- 
ally visited  during  the  day — happened  to  have  any  person 
in  it  when  she  arrived  with  food  for  her  young,  she  would 
dart  back  as  rapidly  as  she  came  in,  and  go  through  her 
accustomed  antics  on  an  adjoining  building,  while  still 
retaining  the  food.  By  the  middle  of  August,  the  young, 
although  but  scantily  feathered,  had  left  the  nest,  and  in 
a  day  or  two,  old  and  young  departed  from  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

The  song  of  the  Bewick's  wren  is  very  fine  and  more 
melodious  than  that  of  the  common  house-wren.  There 
is  not  in  it,  however,  or  in  any  of  the  various  utterances 
of  the  female,  any  trace  of  mimicry  or  ventriloquism,  and 
when  I  saw  the  anxious  wren  labor  with  both  voice  and 
body,  and  with  all  her  might,  to  make  her  supposed  ene- 
mies believe  her  painfully  acted  and  harshly  uttered  lie, 
I  could  not  but  recall  the  advantage  of  the  chat,  in  being 
able  to  remain  comfortably  at  home,  and  send  his  voice 
on  an  errand,  whenever  and  wherever  it  seemed  neces- 
sary. 

With  reference  to  this  wren's  nest,  it  may  be  said  that 
this  species  usually  builds  a  very  commodious  and  neat 
structure  in  a  concealed  spot,  and  not,  as  in  this  case,  on 
the  top  of  a  window-frame,  in  full  view,  like  a  peewee's. 
It  was  really  an  instance  of  what  is  often  seen  in  nest- 
building,  carelessness  and  laziness  on  the  part  of  the 
builders.  In  my  studies  of  birds'  nests,  I  have  found  ex- 
posed positions  chosen,  because  the  twigs  and  branches 


152  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

grew  in  such  a  manner  as  to  lessen  the  labor  of  building. 
Thus  we  see  that,  while  some  birds  are  "  smart,"  others 
are  less  so,  and  that  not  a  few  have  their  weaknesses,  just 
as  is  so  often  the  case  in  man.  All  of  which,  I  think,  is 
a  strong  argument  in  favor  of  the  theory  that  the  mental 
powers  of  birds  are  identical  with  those  of  man,  differing 
only  in  degree. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   CAROLINA   WEEN:    A   YEAR   OF   ITS   LIFE. 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  September  1,  1882,  as  I  was 
passing  near  the  stable,  my  attention  was  called  to  the 
shrill  notes  of  an  excited  little  bird  that,  darting  from  the 
building,  alighted  on  the  fence  near  by  and  screamed 
Jimmee,  Jimmee,  Jimmee,  so  loudly,  that  every  James  in 
the  township  should  have  hastened  thither.  ~No  response 
came,  and  again  the  call,  a  clear,  penetrating  whistle,  was 
repeated.  This  continued  at  brief  intervals  for  two  or 
three  minutes,  and  then,  as  quickly  as  it  came,  the  bird 
flew  back  to  the  stable,  entering  through  a  knot-hole  in  a 
weather-board  with  such  rapidity  of  movement  that  I 
could  but  marvel  at  its  dexterity. 

Half  an  hour  later  I  saw  this  same  bird  again,  coming 
from  the  stable  through  the  same  knot-hole,  and  this  time 
it  sang  as  loudly,  impatiently,  and  frequently  as  before, 
but  the  notes  were  different.  It  said,  or  seemed  to  say, 
tsaii-re-ta,  tsau-re-ta,  tsaure-ta.  Had  I  not  seen  the 
bird  I  should  have  recognized  it  by  a  peculiarity  in  its 
song,  which  was  never  wanting,  whatever  might  be  the 
particular  notes  it  uttered.  My  attention  being  called  to 
this  little  bird — the  Carolina  wren  (or  mocking  wren  of 
authors) — I  determined  forthwith  to  study  its  habits  as 
opportunity  presented,  for  the  little  that  I  found  recorded 
of  it  is  far  from  satisfactory. 

What  might  be  the  attraction  in  the  stable  was  my 


154:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

first  object  to  determine,  for  I  did  not  suppose  it  had  a 
nest  so  late  in  the  season,  and  I  had  not  noticed  the  bird 
particularly  during  the  summer  months,  although  I  knew 
they  were  in  the  neighborhood.  A  protracted  search 
failed,  indeed,  in  finding  any  nest ;  but  while  I  was  wan- 
dering about  I  was  surprised  to  see  the  wren  enter  the 
building  and  proceed  immediately  to  search  for  spiders, 
which  hitherto  were  abundant  in  every  nook  and  cor- 
ner, but  now  were  comparatively  scarce.  Once  the  bird 
alighted  upon  the  back  of  a  horse  standing  in  its  stall,  and 
while  there  quietly  preened  its  feathers,  as  much  as  a 
wren  ever  deigns  to  do  this,  and  then,  with  a  shrill  chirp 
that  startled  the  animal,  away  it  flew  in  search  of  more 
spiders. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  I  again  saw  the 
wren  enter  the  stable  and  pass  directly  through  the  mow- 
hole  to  the  hay-loft  overhead.  I  followed  and  found 
that  the  bird  had  taken  possession  of  a  barn-swallow's 
nest,  and  here  it  was  keeping  bachelor's  hall.  The  nest 
was  placed  against  a  rafter,  near  the  peak  of  the  roof, 
and  was  quite  inaccessible  to  cats.  This  probably  the 
wren  did  not  consider.  It  is  a  sly  cat  that  ever  catches 
a  wren  napping.  The  bird  did  not  like  my  discovering 
his  hiding-place,  or  at  least  was  annoyed  by  my  inquisi- 
tiveness.  It  circled  about  me  several  times,  snapping  its 
beak  I  thought,  and  chirped  an  unusually  emphatic  tsip, 
which  I  took  to  be  the  wrennish  for  "  damn." 

All  through  the  mellow  September  days,  early  and 
late,  the  clear  notes  of  this  wren  were  to  be  heard,  and 
through  October,  and  long  after  every  summer  songster 
had  departed,  I  heard  them  daily  and  many  times  a  day. 

During  the  autumn  there  was  little  to  note  with  re- 
gard to  the  bird's  habits.  The  insects  in  the  stable  and 
outbuildings  afforded  it  a  sufficient  food  supply,  but  dur- 


THE  CAROLINA  WREN.  155 

ing  exceptionally  warm  and  sunny  days  it  made  frequent 
visits  to  a  wooded  slope  near  by,  and  there,  among  the 
giant  oaks  and  chestnuts,  it  seemed  more  lively  and  full 
of  song  than  when  nearer  home. 

A  few  words  with  reference  to  the  character  of  its 
song.  Every  utterance  is  sharply  defined  by  a  peculiar- 
ity that  belongs  only  to  this  bird.  I  think  I  should  know 
the  bird  by  its  voice  wherever  I  might  hear  it. 

Again,  while  the  bird  has  a  great  variety  of  notes,  I 
believe  I  have  never  heard  it  mingle  these  various  utter- 
ances. It  may  chance  to  whistle  jimmee  or  tsau-re-ta  or 
phoe-do,  but  it  never  follows  one  with  the  other.  It  is 
in  all  cases  a  repetition  of  the  notes  it  first  utters.  Thus 
I  once  recorded  its  song  as  uttered  during  ten  minutes. 
Its  notes  then  were  phoedo,  phoe-do,  phoe-do  phee  !  with 
a  rest  of  some  five  to  ten  seconds — then  repeated ;  and 
this  continued  without  any  variation  until  the  notes  as 
here  given  had  been  uttered  sixty-four  times.  As  the 
bird  was  about  commencing  the  sixty-fifth  repetition  it 
was  frightened  and  flew  off.  A  half  hour  later  the  bird 
took  up  its  position  on  a  hop-vine  pole  and  sang  the 
notes  represented  by  the  syllables  tsau-re-ta  forty-seven 
times,  with  intervals  of  about  five  seconds  between  each 
utterance. 

I  find  it  very  generally  stated  that  this  wren  is  a 
"mocker,"  imitating  many  of  our  common  songsters. 
Evidences  of  this  have  never  come  under  my  notice. 
Carefully  as  I  have  listened  to  this  wren  for  a  year,  I  have 
never  heard  a  note  that  I  should  consider  as  not  its  own, 
and  not  borrowed.  It  is  not  safe,  however,  to  conclude 
that  it  does  not  mimic  other  birds,  because  the  one  I  have 
studied  failed  to  do  so.  One's  observations  must  cover  a 
wider  range  of  territory,  and  extend  over  many  years,  be- 
fore it  is  safe  to  be  positive  in  the  matter  of  the  habits 


156  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  birds.  Only  recently  I  read  a  most  painful  account  of 
the  many  dangers  to  which  birds  nesting  in  the  valley  of 
the  Hudson  River  are  exposed.  According  to  the  writer 
but  very  few  broods  are  successfully  reared.  Happily, 
here  in  the  Delaware  Valley  the  birds  are  more  fortunate, 
and  a  failure  is  the  exception,  not  the  rule.  So,  too,  it 
may  be  with  the  songs  of  birds.  My  Carolina  wrens  do 
not  mimic,  but  perhaps  my  neighbor's  do. 

At  the  onset  of  winter,  which  in  1882  was  late  in 
November,  the  wren  seemed  unusually  active,  and  sang 
even  more  frequently  than  during  the  sunny  days  of 
early  autumn.  At  this  time  the  characteristic  tyrannical 
temper  of  the  wren  tribe  showed  itself.  My  wren  had 
pre-empted  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  stable,  barn, 
and  other  out-buildings,  and  woe  betide  any  trespasser ; 
snow-birds,  sparrows,  titmice,  and  even  blue-jays  were 
promptly  warned  off  by  the  little  tyrant.  If  they  ques- 
tioned his  authority  it  was  only  to  their  sorrow.  So  it 
proved  the  long  winter  through.  No  other  birds  came 
near  to  stay.  Spider-hunting,  fighting,  and  singing  oc- 
cupied all  its  moments,  and,  I  am  told,  it  was  often  heard 
to  whistle  late  in  the  night.  Probably  it  was  dreaming, 
which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  considering  the  activity 
of  the  bird's  brain  when  awake. 

Thus  for  six  months  this  bird  lived  quite  alone.  It 
certainly  never  wandered  far  at  any  one  time.  It  was 
seen  at  too  short  intervals  for  this.  But  if  lonely  it  was 
not  morose,  and  to  all  appearance  throve  admirably  from 
September  to  March. 

From  March  to  September  it  lived  another  life.  As 
early  as  the  Yth  it  appeared  upon  the  scene  with  a  com- 
panion. The  two  were  very  noisy  and  demonstrative. 
I  could  not  detect  much  evidence  of  affection,  and  at 
times  their  actions  were  strongly  suggestive  of  quarreling. 


THE  CAROLINA   WREN.  157 

This,  however,  did  not  last  long.  In  the  course  of  a  week 
they  had  settled  all  their  little  differences,  and  hunted 
the  spiders  in  the  out-buildings,  and  early  insects  every- 
where, in  company.  The  song  of  the  male  bird  was  now 
more  varied  and  frequent,  yet  never  with  a  trace  of 
mimicry  of  the  notes  of  other  birds.  Its  song  in  volume 
exceeded  even  the  clear  whistle  of  the  cardinal  grosbeak, 
and  could  be  heard  distinctly  for  half  a  mile  during  a 
still  morning. 

March  18th  was  a  pleasant,  spring-like  day,  and  an 
early  Maryland  yellow-throat  was  singing  merrily.  This 
drew  me  out  of  doors,  and  I  noticed  directly  that  the 
Carolina  wrens  had  commenced  nest-building.  Both  birds 
were  busy  carrying  long  grass,  strips  of  inner  bark  of 
shrubs,  and  an  odd  thread  or  two  that  were  found  near 
by.  One  bird  examined  the  clothes-line  carefully,  but 
could  not  succeed  in  unraveling  any  portion. 

Following  the  wrens,  I  found  they  had  located  on  the 
upper  surface  of  one  of  the  plates  of  the  frame  of  the 
barn.  The  nest  was  directly  under  the  roof,  and  quite 
filled  the  space  between  the  upper  surface  of  the  plate 
and  the  shingles,  about  six  inches.  The  nest,  when  com- 
pleted except  the  lining,  was  quite  a  foot  in  length.  It 
was,  in  fact,  a  mere  shapeless  mass  of  loose  material. 
Into  this  the  female  wren  burrowed  and  remained  most 
of  the  time,  while  the  male  bird  brought  softer  fibers  and 
chicken  feathers.  With  these  the  cavity  was  lined  and 
the  nest  completed. 

March  24th  an  egg  was  laid,  and  another  each  day 
until  the  29th,  when  the  hen  commenced  sitting.  Dur- 
ing the  days  that  followed,  the  male  bird  was  very  active 
in  supplying  his  mate  with  food,  and  took  his  turn  in 
caring  for  the  eggs,  but  evidently  under  protest ;  this  I 
conclude  from  the  super-merry  songs  he  uttered  on  being 


158  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

relieved.  Indeed  it  is  a  marvel  to  me  that  even  a  female 
wren  can  sit  still.  They  have  such  nervous  tempera- 
ments that  an  entire  change  of  nidification,  whereby  solar 
heat  could  be  depended  upon,  would,  no  doubt,  be  hailed 
by  them  with  joy. 

Five  young  birds  were  hatched  April  9th.  When  twen- 
ty days  old  they  were  able  to  fly,  and  had  left  the  nest  and 
apparently  their  parents.  I  saw  them,  evidently  shifting 
for  themselves,  two  days  later,  when  they  disappeared. 
May  14th  the  old  birds  were  again  building  a  nest,  this 
time  in  another  building,  but  in  a  similar  position.  The 
structure  was  identical  in  shape  and  size,  but  differed  in 
being  largely  lined  with  snake-skins.  It  was  completed 
by  May  20th,  and  a  week  later  seven  eggs  had  been  laid, 
and  June  7th  six  eggs  were  hatched.  The  young  were 
on  the  wing  July  1st.  July  15th  a  third  nest  was  found 
nearly  completed.  Five  eggs  were  laid  by  the  23d,  and 
on  August  8th  the  young  birds  of  the  third  brood  had 
appeared.  These  could  fly  by  the  26th  of  the  month, 
and  had  left  the  nest  and  the  neighborhood  by  the  30th. 

It  is  now  a  few  days  more  than  a  year  since  my  atten- 
tion was  particularly  called  to  the  single  Carolina  wren 
that  frequented  the  stable.  During  the  past  twelve 
months  it  was  closely  watched,  and  every  habit  noted. 
When  I  was  absent  others  observed  it  for  me,  and  nothing 
of  importance  escaped  attention.  While  I  am  writing 
these  concluding  lines,  I  can  hear  the  bird  singing  merrily 
as  it  sits  upon  the  top  of  the  hop-vine  pole,  of  late  its 
favorite  perch.  While  listening  to  its  song  it  is  a  proper 
time  to  sum  up  the  results  of  what  I  have  seen  and  heard. 
As  a  songster  it  ranks  very  high  and  its  utterances  arc 
all  original.  As  a  spider-hunter  it  is  as  active  as  any  of 
the  family  of  wrens.  As  a  courageous  foe  of  the  English 
sparrows  it  is  a  blessing  to  the  community. 


CHAPTEK  XYIII. 

DO    SWALLOWS    HEBEKNATE  ? 

IN  the  year  1750,  Peter  Kalm,  the  Swedish  naturalist, 
made  the  following  entry  in  his  journal,  during  a  brief 
sojourn  in  Southern  New  Jersey :  "  I  observed  the  barn- 
swallows  for  the  first  time  on  the  10th  of  April  [new 
style]  ;  the  next  day  in  the  morning,  I  saw  great  numbers 
of  them  sitting  on  posts  and  planks,  and  they  were  as  wet 
as  if  they  had  been  just  come  out  of  the  sea."  On  a  sub- 
sequent page,  he  remarks :  "  The  people  differed  here  in 
their  opinions  about  the  abode  of  swallows  in  winter ; 
most  of  the  Swedes  thought  that  they  lay  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea ;  some,  with  the  English  and  the  French  in 
Canada,  thought  that  they  migrate  to  the  southward  in 
autumn,  and  return  in  spring.  I  have  likewise  been 
credibly  informed  in  Albany  that  they  have  been  found 
sleeping  in  deep  holes  and  clefts  of  rocks  during  winter." 
Furthermore,  it  is  well  to  say  that  John  Reinhold  Forster, 
the  accomplished  translator  of  Kalm's  travels,  adds,  in  a 
foot-note,  a  series  of  well-attested  instances  of  swallows 
having  been  found  hibernating  in  the  mud  at  the  bottoms 
of  lakes :  among  these  instances  he  mentions  Dr.  Wal- 
lerius,  a  celebrated  Swedish  chemist,  who  affirmed  that  he 
had  "  seen  more  than  once,  swallows  assembling  on  a  reed, 
till  they  were  all  immersed  and  went  to  the  bottom  ;  this 
being  preceded  by  a  dirge  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
length."  Commenting  upon  the  above  and  like  instances, 


160  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Mr.  Forster  is  led  to  conclude  that  in  countries  as  cold  as 
Sweden  "  swallows  immerse  in  the  sea,  in  lakes  and  rivers, 
and  remain  in  a  torpid  state,  under  ice,  during  winter ; " 
and  that  some  English  swallows,  and  some  in  Germany, 
"retire  into  clefts  and  holes  in  rocks,"  while  in  Spain, 
Italy,  and  France,  that  they  are  strictly  migratory  birds. 

That  our  American  swallows  are  strictly  migratory 
birds,  I  have  no  doubt ;  and  it  would  never  have  occurred 
to  me  to  consider  the  subject  of  their  hibernation  other 
than  a  mere  fancy,  had  not  an  excellent  American  orni- 
thologist stated  recently  that  this  alleged  submarine  hiber- 
nation was  physically  and  physiologically  feasible.  This 
assertion  is  too  hasty,  and  is  not  warranted  by  known  laws 
of  life.  Having  been  made,  however,  and  a  semi-assent 
to  the  alleged  habit  of  hibernation  being  thus  given  by 
an  authority  in  ornithological  science,  it  behooves  the 
naturalist  to  determine  how  great  an  amount  of  truth 
there  is  in  the  statements,  so  frequently  and  forcibly  made, 
of  the  persons  claiming  to  have  witnessed  actions  on  the 
part  of  swallows,  indicative  of  hibernation  commenced, 
and  of  the  discovery  of  swallows  in  conditions  indicative 
of  hibernation  in  progress. 

Believing  this  supposed  habit  to  be  really  a  miscon- 
ception of  movements  on  the  part  of  swallows,  to  be  lik- 
ened in  some  measure  to  the  rolling  habit  of  the  mythical 
hoop-snake,  I  have  taken  every  available  opportunity, 
since  1878,  to  observe  the  movements  of  the  several  spe- 
cies of  swallows  that  frequent  my  neighborhood,  with 
the  hope  of  determining  what  habits  obtained  among 
them  that  might  possibly  have  given  rise  to  the  world- 
wide impression  that  swallows  not  only  hibernate  but 
even  deliberately  bury  themselves  in  mud  at  the  bottoms 
of  lakes  and  rivers. 

The  species  of  swallow  that  I  have  had  opportunity 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  161 

of  carefully  studying  for  the  past  three  years  are  the  bank- 
swallow,  the  cliff-swallow,  the  barn-swallow,  and  lastly  the 
swallow-like  swift,  universally  known  as  the  chimney- 
swallow. 

I  do  not  propose  to  give  here  an  extended  account  of 
the  habits  of  these  four  species  of  well-known  birds,  but 
to  relate  the  occurrences  that  I  have  witnessed,  which 
seemed  to  bear  upon  the  question.  These  birds  I  will 
treat  of  in  the  order  named. 

Probably  the  most  abundant  of  all  our  swallows  is  that 
known  as  the  bank-swallow,  a  name  derived  from  the  habit 
of  building  its  nest  in  the  steep  faces  of  earth-banks,  when 
they  are  of  such  composition  or  structure  that  these  birds 
can  safely  burrow  into  them  to  a  depth  of  several  feet. 
I  say  "  safely,"  for  if  the  earth  be  too  yielding,  and  the 
sides  liable  to  crumble,  then  the  bank  will  be  abandoned. 
In  every  instance  that  has  come  under  my  notice  the  cho- 
sen banks  or  escarpments  occupied  by  a  colony  of  bank- 
swallows  had  a  southern  exposure,  and  directly  fronting 
it,  and  never  so  far  distant  as  to  be  out  of  sight,  there 
was  either  a  pond,  a  creek,  or  the  river  itself.  Now  this 
association  of  water  and  the  colonies  of  bank-swallows  is 
important. 

Least  susceptible  to  changes  of  weather,  and  depend- 
ent upon  food  more  than  temperature,  the  bank-swal- 
low is  the  earliest  of  the  family  to  appear  in  spring,  and 
the  last  to  disappear  late  in  autumn.  The  alleged  hiber- 
nation is  a  habit  that  concerns  us  only  at  such  times  of  the 
year — in  early  spring,  when  they  leave  their  muddy 
couches  after  prolonged  slumber,  and  in  autumn  when 
they  seek  these  submarine  retreats. 

Like  all,  or  nearly  all,  migratory  birds,  the  bank-swal- 
lows return  in  early  spring  to  their  haunts  of  the  preced- 
ing summer.  When  I  have  first  noted  their  return,  often 


162  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

as  early  as  the  10th  of  March,  they  were  either  flying  to 
and  fro  over  the  water  in  front  of  the  site  of  their  nests 
of  last  year,  or  flying  in  and  out  of  the  old  burrows,  in- 
specting their  condition,  but  not  preparing  for  the  coming 
duties  of  incubation.  Thus  early  in  the  spring,  their  flight 
is  not  as  continued  as  it  is  a  month  later.  Apparently  they 
have  not  recovered  from  the  fatigue  of  their  migratorial 
journey,  and  they  rest  in  small  companies,  not  upon  trees, 
but,  I  may  say,  exclusively  either  at  the  openings  of  the 
subterranean  nests,  or  upon  sticks,  dead  trees,  and  vegeta- 
tion projecting  from  the  water.  Now  add  the  very  im- 
portant fact  that  the  amount  of  food  to  be  found  by  these 
swallows,  thus  early  in  the  season,  is  very  limited — being 
confined  to  a  few  hardy  insects  that  are  then  astir  if  the 
sun  is  shining — and  it  becomes  evident  that,  from  an  insuf- 
ficient supply  of  food,  their  vigorous  flight  power  of  mid- 
summer will  be  visibly  affected. 

Add  to  this  the  depressing  influences  of  cold  rain- 
storms, which  they  do  not  endeavor  to  avoid,  and  we 
have  causes  sufficient  to  explain  the  well-attested  fact 
that  these  swallows  are  at  this  time  of  the  year  often  to 
be  seen,  as  Kalm  described  those  he  saw  in  1750,  "  as 
wet  as  if  they  had  been  just  come  out  of  the  sea." 

Let  me  now  mention  the  details  of  an  incident  of  this 
kind.  On  the  17th  of  March,  1878,  the  weather  for  a 
week  previously  having  been  fairly  pleasant  for  the  time 
of  year,  a  few  swallows  were  seen  ;  it  rained  very  hard 
until  about  noon,  when  it  cleared  suddenly,  the  wind 
shifting  to  the  northwest.  I  started  out  for  a  short  ram- 
ble in  search  of  Indian  relics,  and,  passing  by  the  bluff 
that  for  years  had  been  frequented  by  bank-swallows,  I 
was  attracted  by  the  incessant  but  feeble  twitterings  of 
numbers  of  these  birds  ;  none  were  to  be  seen.  I  looked 
for  them  for  some  time,  and  finally  found  a  hundred  or 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  163 

more  sitting  upon  the  top  rail  of  a  section  of  half-sub- 
merged fence  in  the  marshy  meadow  facing  the  cliff.  Ap- 
proaching as  near  as  I  could,  I  found  them  unable,  or,  at 
least,  indisposed  to  fly ;  and  finally,  getting  to  them, 
found  them  thoroughly  soaked,  and  readily  taken  by  the 
hand.  Those  that  endeavored  to  escape  fell  into  the 
water,  and  were  lost  in  the  dead  bulrushes  that  projected 
above  its  surface.  I  presume  that  many  were  drowned. 
My  explanation  of  the  occurrence  is  this :  they  were  in- 
sect hunting  when  the  storm  commenced,  and,  taking 
refuge  upon  the  fence,  they  were  awaiting  the  slow  pro- 
cess of  drying  of  feathers,  by  exposure  to  the  wind  and 
the  fitful  sunshine.  This  accomplished  they  would  have 
been  themselves  again.  On  the  other  hand,  had  I  not 
seen  these  swallows  previously,  there  was  every  reason  to 
lead  me  to  suppose  that  they  had  suddenly  appeared 
from  some  near-at-hand  hiding-place,  where  they  had 
been  quietly  at  rest  during  the  winter  just  closed ;  and 
had  any  one  following  in  my  footsteps  found  the  poor 
struggling  birds  that  I  had  caused  to  fall  into  the  water, 
then  natural,  indeed,  would  it  have  been  to  suppose  that 
from  the  water  itself  had  emerged  these  chilled  and  help- 
less birds  at  the  first  breath  of  spring ! 

Now,  on  the  19th  of  March,  1880,  there  was  a  cold 
storm,  with  both  snow  and  rain.  Two  days  previously  I 
had  seen  two  bank  -  swallows.  Thinking  that  others 
might  be  about,  and  desirious  of  seeing  them  during  a 
rain,  I  went  to  the  cliff  near  my  house,  but  saw  nothing 
of  them.  Lingering  about  the  place  for  some  time,  I 
finally  saw  three  emerge  from  holes  in  the  cliff,  and,  after 
fluttering  about  a  short  time  (the  rain  had  then  stopped), 
they  alighted  on  a  stake  projecting  from  the  water,  where 
they  remained  -fully  ten  minutes.  The  rain  commencing 
again  to  fall,  one  flew  away,  and  went,  I  think,  to  the 


164:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

cliff  ;  the  others  flew  to  the  same  fence,  where  I  had  seen 
scores  of  them  two  years  before,  and  sat  near  together 
facing  the  wind,  just  as  pigeons  will  arrange  themselves 
on  the  peak  of  the  roof  of  a  barn  during  a  rain-storm  in 
summer. 

In  this  case,  these  two  swallows  certainly  became 
thoroughly  wetted,  and  had  they  been  found  later,  when 
the  storm  was  over,  would  doubtless  have  presented  the 
appearance  of  being  "  as  wet  as  if  they  had  been  just 
come  out  of  the  sea." 

How  easy  it  is  to  be  misled  by  appearances  in  this 
matter  of  studying  bird-life !  Had  I  not  known  that 
swallows  had  been  flying  for  days  before  I  found  these 
wet,  bedraggled,  storm-beaten  birds,  I  could  fairly  have 
claimed  that  my  own  experience  fully  confirmed  the 
opinions  of  others,  that  swallows  not  only  migrate,  but 
remain  in  mud-encased  beds  at  the  bottoms  of  our  ponds, 
creeks,  and  rivers  ;  but  until  swallows  are  first  heard  sing- 
ing their  farewell  dirge,  as  Dr.  "Wallerius  describes,  then 
seen  to  sink  into  the  mud,  and  are  then  promptly  resur- 
rected, before  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  it  will  be  safe  to  as- 
sert that  what  many  have  seen  is  susceptible  of  another 
explanation  than  voluntary  submergence  in  the  mud  of 
our  water-courses.  Furthermore,  it  can  be  safely  asserted, 
I  think,  that  bank-swallows  return  year  after  year  to  their 
haunts  of  previous  summers.  A  New  York,  or  Con- 
necticut, or  Massachusetts  colony  of  these  birds,  will  not 
reach  its  haunt  of  last  summer  as  early  as  will  the  New 
Jersey  colonies  reach  theirs. 

Although  the  recent  observations  of  Mr.  Scott  at 
Princeton,  New  Jersey,  conclusively  show  that  migration 
customarily  takes  place  at  any  night  when  it  is  moon- 
light, it  does  not  necessarily  show  that  migration  at  night 
is  the  common  habit  of  all  birds  that  migrate.  Indeed, 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  165 

it  is  impossible  to  believe  that,  however  brilliant  the 
moonlight  may  be,  any  bird  could  distinguish,  at  the  ele- 
vation of  a  mile  or  more,  the  limited  area  of  its  former 
summer  haunts,  the  particular  thicket  in  which  it  nested 
the  foregoing  summer ;  or,  in  the  case  of  swallows,  the 
little  bluff  wherein  a  colony  had  had  their  subterranean 
summer  homes.  The  most  that  can  be  claimed  is  their 
recognition  of  the  particular  river  valley  wherein  they 
have  been  accustomed  to  spend  the  summer.  Granting 
this,  if  they  migrated  at  night,  then  it  is  early  in  the 
morning  after  their  arrival  that  we  should  expect  to  see 
them  resting  in  scattered  numbers  after  their  journey ; 
and  when  thus  wearied  from  a  protracted  flight,  and 
damped  with  the  dews  that  have  bathed  surrounding 
Nature,  they  might  well  present  the  appearance  of  hav- 
ing arisen  from  the  waters  beneath,  rather  than  fallen 
from  the  clouds  above. 

Continuing  our  consideration  of  these  bank-swallows, 
let  us  now  pass  to  the  time  of  their  annual  disappearance, 
late  in  autumn,  or  at  the  onset  of  winter.  Two  condi- 
tions cause  the  change  of  habitation,  or,  at  least,  the  dis- 
appearance from  their  summer  haunts — a  much  lower 
temperature,  and  absence  of  insects,  their  only  food. 
Now,  severe  frosts  often  occur  in  October,  or  they  may 
be  delayed  until  November,  but  this  alone  does  not  de- 
cide the  movements  of  the  swallows ;  for  often  they  have 
wholly  disappeared  before  October,  and  then  a  year  may 
pass,  with  flitting  swallows  skimming  o'er  the  lea,  un- 
daunted by  the  chill  November  fogs.  The  supposed 
regularity  of  their  comings  and  goings  is  not  applicable 
to  their  New  Jersey  haunts,  however  it  may  be  in  more 
northern  localities. 

What,  therefore,  I  have  seen  of  their  movements  in 
autumn  that  has  possible  bearing  upon  alleged  hiberna- 


166  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

tion  is,  first,  the  effect  of  age.  Now,  it  is  as  evident  as 
that  birds  grow  old,  that,  in  due  course  of  time,  these  mi- 
gratory swallows  will  reach  that  condition  of  decrepitude 
when  they  can  make  their  migratory  journey  from  South 
to  North,  or  vice  versa,  for  the  last  time.  In  such  case, 
there  must  necessarily  be  a  large  number  that  are  left 
behind,  when  the  main  body  depart  each  year,  unless  it  can 
be  shown  that  these  aged  birds  die  in  the  course  of  the  sum- 
mer at  the  North,  or  during  their  winter  sojourn  in  the 
South.  Both  statements  are  true.  The  result  of  a  sum- 
mer's study  of  a  colony  of  bank-swallows  revealed  the  fact 
that  a  number  of  old  unpaired  swallows  flitted  feebly 
about  the  bluff,  but  never  appeared  to  wander  far  from  it. 
They  were  often  seen  sitting  at  the  openings  of  the  nests 
in  the  cliff,  and  were  taken  for  young  birds.  They  were 
not  fed  by  old  birds  having  young  to  look  after,  and 
fared  scantily  on  such  insects  as  they  caught  by  their  own 
exertions.  Early  in  August  I  found  many  lying  dead, 
both  in  the  burrowings  and  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  Ex- 
amination proved  that  they  all  were  old  birds.  In  au- 
tumn, about  October  1st,  the  main  body  of  the  colony 
largely  frequent  the  weedy  marshes,  and  seem  to  be  for- 
ever on  the  wing,  insect-catching,  as  they  move  in  an 
endless  labyrinth  of  curves  over  the  quiet  waters.  I 
have  seen  thousands  of  them  thus  engaged,  far  from  their 
nesting  haunts.  Occasionally  they  would  alight  upon 
tall  reeds  and  objects  projecting  above  the  water,  and 
twitter  without  ceasing.  Then,  as  by  a  signal,  these 
thousands  would  rise  together  from  their  resting  places, 
and  mounting  to  an  unusal  elevation  fly  away,  to  return 
no  more  that  season. 

These  birds  were  associated  colonies  on  their  southern 
migration ;  but  there  were  still  left  a  few  of  those  who 
had  here  spent  a  joyous,  gleesome  summer.  The  lame, 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  167 

the  weak,  the  blind,  and  the  unburied  dead  of  that  avian 
city  still  remained  ;  and  what  a  mournful  spectacle  they 
offered  !  painfully  so  in  themselves,  and  the  more  impres- 
sive when  the  thoughtless,  glittering  throng  of  a  few 
days  past  was  vividly  recalled. 

Cheered  for  the  time  by  the  mellow  sunlight  that 
beamed  upon  them,  the  aged,  half -helpless  swallows,  whose 
wings  still  responded  to  the  will  languidly,  chased  the  few 
remaining  insects  flitting  over  the  weedy  waters.  Others, 
venturing  less  far,  caught,  with  what  skill  they  could  com- 
mand, the  chilled  and  drooping  flies  that  sought  refuge 
from  the  cold  winds  in  these  safe,  snug  harbors  in  the 
cliff.  Indeed,  this  shelter-seeking  flight  of  insect-life,  that 
now  teems  about  these  deserted  nests  of  the  departed 
swallows,  proves  a  veritable  godsend  to  those  poor  birds 
that,  from  whatsoever  cause,  are  fated  to  remain,  if  it  be 
a  blessing  to  prolong  a  joyless  existence  during  a  few  brief 
weeks  in  autumn.  But  the  importance  of  this  sad  phase 
of  swallow-life  as  bearing  upon  our  subject  remains  to  be 
stated.  Notwithstanding  their  weakness,  the  desire  or 
instinct  to  migrate  still  remains,  and  when  pressed  more 
than  usual  by  sudden  accession  of  cold,  or  by  scarcity  of 
food,  numbers  of  those  that  remain  will  collect  as  of  yore, 
on  the  rushes  and  reeds  about  the  water,  and  often  com- 
mence their  protracted  flight  toward  their  winter  haunts. 
Many  straggling  swallows  doubtless  wander  miles  before 
finally  succumbing  to  the  weakness  of  age,  though  they 
never  wander  far  from  water,  but  migrate  in  their  accus- 
tomed course,  which  is  always  coastwise,  down  a  river 
valley.  When  their  course  is  finished  they  are  found 
in  the  track  of  the  hardy  multitude  that  have  passed 
successfully  onward.  Here,  yielding  to  the  severity  of 
the  increasing  cold,  they  find  watery  graves  beneath  the 
nodding  plumes  of  the  russet  grasses  over  which,  in  days 


168  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

gone  by,  they  had  flitted  without  fatigue,  thoughtless  of 
the  morrow. 

Such  swallows  I  have  seen,  year  after  year,  and  it  was 
to  them  that  Dr.  Wallerius  referred  when  he  said  that  they 
assembled  on  a  reed  "  till  they  were  all  immersed,  and 
went  to  the  bottom  ;  this  being  preceded  by  a  dirge  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour's  length." 

Intelligible,  therefore,  as  I  consider  the  movements  of 
swallows  to  be,  in  so  far  as  these  might  give  the  impression 
of  hibernation  beneath  the  water,  it  is  not  by  the  same 
observations  that  I  have  here  recorded  that  the  asserted 
finding  of  torpid  swallows  during  the  winter,  encased  in 
mud,  can  be  explained. 

The  mere  finding  of  swallows  in  the  mud  is  of  itself 
nothing  strange,  although  the  chances  of  their  escaping 
the  attacks  of  the  turtles  and  carnivorous  fishes  is  very 
small ;  but  to  find  them  alive,  in  such  positions,  is  a  dif- 
ferent matter,  and  at  once  recalls  the  probability  of  the 
assertion  that  I  have  questioned,  that  it  is  physically  and 
physiologically  feasible  for  swallows  to  lie  dormant  under 
water.  If  so,  some  great  constitutional  change  must  take 
place,  for  swallows,  throughout  the  summer,  are  readily 
drowned,  if  held  for  even  a  minute  under  water ;  and,  if 
their  plumage  is  well  soaked  by  repeated  immersions,  they 
are  helpless  until  thoroughly  dry  again.  The  structure 
of  their  feathers,  furthermore,  is  wholly  unlike  that  of 
aquatic  birds,  and  therefore  they  can  not  resist  the  per- 
vading action  of  the  water,  as  do  the  oily,  close-set  feath- 
ers of  the  ducks  and  divers. 

Again,  if  torpid  swallows  are  encased  in  mud,  be- 
neath a  considerable  depth  of  water,  by  what  means  can 
the  reviving  influences  of  returning  spring  reach  them  ? 
Whether  in  mid-winter  or  in  genial  April  days,  the  mud 
at  the  bottoms  of  our  ponds  is  of  nearly  uniform  temper- 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  169 

ature,  and  certainly  does  not  vary  so  much  as  to  start,  by 
its  added  warmth,  the  life-pulses  of  swallows  that  for  five 
or  six  long  months  have  ceased  to  beat ;  and  why  should 
these  unfortunates  remain  thus  beneath  chilled  and  often 
ice-locked  waters,  when,  in  the  mellow  sunshine  above, 
other  and  wiser  swallows  of  their  kind  flit  and  twitter  as 
of  yore,  having  happily  chosen  migration  rather  than 
submergence  ? 

But  the  testimony  on  this  point  is  too  explicit  to  war- 
rant the  belief  that  these  witnesses  could  have  been  in 
error.  To  show  how  readily  people  can  be  mistaken,  let 
me  state  a  case  : 

A.  B.  has  testified  on  oath  as  follows  :  "  Early  in 
April,  1836,  as  I  was  passing  on  foot  down  the  Borden- 
town  road,  near  the  drawbridge,  I  heard  a  loud  hissing  in 
the  bushes  at  my  left,  and,  turning  my  head,  saw  a  large, 
checkered,  black  and  white  snake.  It  held  its  head  well 
up,  and  darted  its  tongue  at  me.  I  was  a  good  deal 
frightened  and  turned  and  ran,  as  I  had  heard  of  hoop- 
snakes,  and  found  I  was  chased  by  this  snake  and  that  it 
was  one.  Luckily,  I  was  running  down  hill,  and  covered 
the  ground  pretty  lively.  Near  the  bridge,  I  jumped 
behind  a  cedar-tree,  and  the  snake  passed  me.  It  had  its 
tail  in  its  mouth,  and  rolled  along  like  a  child's  hoop, 
only  a  great  deal  faster.  It  turned  off  at  the  creek,  and 
rolled  into  Crosswicks  Creek,  and  then  uncoiled,  and 
swam  like  any  other  snake." 

Now,  in  this  statement,  made  in  good  faith  by  a  conr 
scientious  man,  there  is  a  curious  admixture  of  truth  and 
misconception.  Mr.  A.  B.  admits  that  he  has  heard  of 
hoop-snakes,  and,  as  they  are  reputed  to  be  more  deadly 
than  veritable  rattle-snakes  or  copper-heads,  it  is  very 
natural  that  he  should  see,  or  simply  think  he  sees,  a 
snake  take  its  tail  in  its  mouth  and  roll,  hoop-like,  down 


170  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

the  sandy  road.  This  impression  is  always  the  more 
vivid  when  the  snake  happens  to  take  the  same  direction 
in  which  the  poor  frightened  person  may  happen  to  flee. 
Now,  if  people  are  taught  to  expect  to  encounter  any 
given  form  of  dangerous  animal,  in  any  neighborhood, 
they  are  apt,  when  any  creature  having  the  similitude  of 
this  mythical  foe  to  humanity  is  seen,  to  endow  it  with  all 
direful  attributes,  and  their  distorted  vision  will  convert 
into  a  horrible  monstrosity,  and  detect  impossible  capers 
in  a  harmless  and  inoffensive  creature. 

Now,  I  have  taken  the  trouble  to  question  a  certain 
class  of  people  concerning  this  hoop-snake,  and  I  find  it 
is  firmly  believed  in  by  hundreds,  who  affirm  that  they, 
their  parents,  or  some  one  of  their  friends  had  seen  them, 
been  chased  by  them,  or  had  indirectly  captured  them, 
by  suddenly  darting  behind  a  tree,  when  the  snake  would 
uncoil,  and,  striking  its  tail  into  the  tree,  would  be  held 
by  it,  and  when  in  this  position  would  be  killed  by  the 
person  pursued. 

Now,  all  of  these  statements  are  just  as  explicit  as  the 
finding  of  dormant  swallows  in  the  mud  ;  yet,  one  and  all, 
they  are  absolutely  false.  If,  therefore,  the  impression 
is  made  on  the  minds  of  the  young  people  of  any  commu- 
nity that  swallows  hibernate  in  the  mud,  it  will  be  diffi- 
cult to  rid  them  of  the  idea  that  any  swallow  that  may 
be  found  in,  or  even  near  water,  is  not  indicative  of  the 
truth  that  swallows  do  really  pass  the  winter  in  such  a 
manner.  Is  this  more  unreasonable  than  that  the  belief 
in  hoop-snakes  should  be  so  common,  even  among  other- 
wise well-informed  people  ?  If  we  can  not  explain  this 
impression  that  swallows  hibernate  in  mud,  and  beneath 
water  too,  in  some  such  manner  as  I  have  endeavored  to 
make  plain,  then  our  only  alternative  is  to  exclaim,  in  de- 
spair, "  Lord  !  Lord !  How  this  world  is  given  to  lying." 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE? 

Let  us  turn  now  to  a  less  abundant,  but  no  less  inter- 
esting species,  the  cliff-swallow.  This  bird,  instead  of 
burrowing  into  a.  bank,  builds  an  elaborate  nest  of  mud 
under  the  eaves  of  barns,  along  rocky  ledges,  and,  in  New 
Jersey  more  frequently  than  elsewhere,  on  the  beams  sup- 
porting the  floors  of  bridges.  Proximity  to  the  water  is 
desirable  evidently,  but  is  not  an  essential  condition  of 
the  locality  chosen  for  their  nests.  As  in  the  case  of  the 
bank-swallow,  these  birds  also  live  in  large  communities, 
and  present  much  the  same  general  features  of  swallow- 
life. 

The  peculiarity  of  their  nest,  in  being  made  of  mud, 
of  course  necessitates  frequent  visits  to  water,  whence 
they  derive  this  material  for  their  nests.  Now,  unlike 
the  bank-swallow,  the  cliff-swallow  is  a  late  arrival,  and 
no  sooner  here,  tired  as  he  must  be,  than  he  commences 
the  work  of  building  a  new  nest  or  of  repairing  the  old 
one.  In  either  case  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  he 
should  dabble  in  the  mud.  Day  in  and  day  out,  for  a 
week  or  more,  his  whole  time  seems  spent  in  mixing  mor- 
tar by  the  water's  side,  and  transporting  it  in  little  bits 
to  the  nest.  He  is  wet  and  bedraggled  much  of  the 
time ;  and  if  a  cold  northeasterly  rain  sets  in,  as  is  so 
often  the  case  during  the  first  week  in  May,  then  these 
swallows  are  in  a  sorry  plight  indeed,  and,  suspending 
building  operations,  they  huddle  about  in  numbers,  twit- 
tering mournfully,  on  the  principle  that  misery  loves 
company.  Such  storms  even  sometimes  prove  fatal  to 
many  of  them,  and  they  are  more  frequently  found 
dead  near  their  nests  than  are  individuals  of  any  other 
species.  Find  them,  then,  during  a  storm,  or  even  notice 
them,  for  the  first  time,  when  they  are  sitting  on  the 
ground  near  the  water,  dripping  wet  at  times,  and  the 
impression  you  will  have  will  be  that  of  Kalm,  that  they 


172  RAMBLES  'ABOUT  HOME. 

look  "  as  if  they  had  been  just  come  out  of  the  sea." 
This  impression,  too,  is  increased  from  the  fact  that  there 
are  no  heralds  of  the  northward-moving  mass  of  swallows 
of  this  kind.  One  and  all,  they  come  together.  Yes- 
terday, not  one  was  to  be  seen ;  to-day,  the  entire  com- 
munity are  settled  in  their  old  haunts,  and  ready  for 
housekeeping.  Their  migrations  are  continued  through 
the  night,  and  either  by  starlight  or  moonlight,  as  the 
case  may  be,  they  are  guided  to  their  several  haunts  of 
the  preceding  summer. 

I  am  very  positive  that  they  arrive  during  the  night, 
and  I  lay  unusual  emphasis  on  this  fact  because  the  ap- 
pearance of  such  a  flight  of  swallows  the  morning  follow- 
ing their  arrival  would  be  apt  to  give  an  impression  of 
aquatic  hibernation,  if  such  an  idea  had  ever  been  ex- 
pressed in  your  hearing.  Not  the  entire  colony  will  im- 
mediately seek  the  nests  of  the  past  summer,  for  there 
will  be  many  young  birds  who  have  as  yet  not  built 
nests,  and  there  will  also  be  birds  yet  to  choose  their 
mates.  Now,  such  birds  will  sit  in  long  rows  on  tele- 
graph wires,  on  fences,  and,  if  the  water  be  near,  be  very 
sure  that  they  will  congregate  about  it.  Thus  congre- 
gated about  a  pond  early  in  the  morning,  perhaps  after  a 
heavy  dew,  and  you  can  readily  see  that  they  will  be  "  as 
wet  as  if  they  had  been  just  come  out  of  the  sea ! " 

In  the  reference  made  by  Kalm  to  swallows,  he  speci- 
fies the  barn-swallow  as  being  that  which  he  saw  on  the 
10th  of  April  (new  style),  1750,  in  a  wet,  spiritless  condi- 
tion, sitting  on  posts  and  planks.  Now,  in  this  case,  we 
have  a  species  of  swallow  that  differs  greatly  in  its  habits 
from  the  preceding.  While  sociable,  and  willing  that  a 
neighbor  should  dwell  near  by,  they  are  by  no  means 
gregarious  ;  and  it  is  often  observed  that  but  a  single  nest 
will  be  in  a  building,  however  large  it  may  be.  Unlike 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  173 

the  bank-  or  cliff-swallows,  they  are  quite  contented  to 
seek  their  food  flitting  over  fields  and  about  the  build- 
ings wherein  are  placed  their  nests.  They  are  not  to  be 
associated  with  water  or  its  vicinity,  any  more  than  with 
the  driest  stretches  of  dusty  fields. 

How,  then,  are  we  to  explain  the  soaked  appearance 
of  those  seen  by  Kalm,  sitting  on  posts  and  planks  ?  I 
think  the  preceding  sentence  explains  it.  He  saw  these 
birds  first  on  the  10th  of  April,  and  on  the  next  day  far 
greater  numbers  of  them,  sitting  on  posts  and  planks. 
They  had  but  reached  their  destination — probably  had 
just  completed  a  protracted  flight  of  hundreds  of  miles — 
and  were  seen  early  in  the  morning.  Thoroughly  fagged 
at  the  end  of  a  long  journey,  and  early  in  the  day,  when 
all  else  was  dripping  with  the  moisture  of  rain-like  dew, 
would  it  not  be  strange  indeed  if  these  new-comers, 
like  all  animate  and  inanimate  nature  about  them, 
were  not  "  as  wet  as  if  they  had  been  just  come  out  of 
the  sea"? 

But  the  barn-swallow  asks  no  lengthy  holiday  on  his 
arrival.  He  quickly,  recuperates,  and  the  duties  of  the 
hour  are  squarely  met.  If,  during  the  summer,  his  wan- 
derings are  less  about  water  than  land,  it  is  to  the  water 
that  he  goes  first,  when  ready  to  construct  his  nest  or  re- 
pair the  structure  of  last  summer.  By  the  water's  edge, 
he  carefully  mixes  the  adhering  mud  that  forms  the  ex- 
terior of  his  house.  Here,  we  have  a  repetition  of  what  I 
mentioned  with  reference  to  the  cliff-swallows.  Just  at 
the  time  when  the  supposed  mud-encased  swallow  should 
leave  his  submarine  abode,  and  all  bedraggled,  wet  and 
worn  should  be  seen  spreading  himself  in  the  sun,  and 
drying  out,  in  readiness  for  a  summer's  campaign — then 
do  we  really  find  the  beautiful  barn-swallows  busy  at  the 
water's  edge,  and  often  well  wet  through ;  but,  instead 


174:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  having  lately  emerged  from  the  water,  they  have  liter- 
ally dropped  from  the  clouds. 

But  if,  for  many  and  good  reasons,  we  set  aside,  as  a 
misconception  of  the  facts,  the  impression  still  retained  by 
many,  that  swallows  hibernate  in  the  mud,  at  the  bottoms 
of  lakes  and  rivers,  what  have  we  to  say  of  the  more  rea- 
sonable proposition  that  they  hibernate,  as  do  many  ani- 
mals, in  underground  retreats,  in  clefts  of  the  rocks  and 
even  in  hollow  trees  ?  Now,  the  one  simple  way  to  decide 
this  matter  is,  to  find  them  hibernating,  as  they  are  said 
to  do. 

So  far  as  my  own  experience  extends,  I  have  never 
found  a  swallow  hibernating  in  any  position,  nor  do  I  ever 
expect  to ;  and,  furthermore,  I  believe  nine  tenths  of  all 
the  accounts  that  are  published  of  the  discovery  of  the  hi- 
bernating swallows  could  be  readily  explained  as  some- 
thing very  different,  if  all  the  facts  of  the  case  could  be 
ascertained.  But  when  we  come  to  study  very  closely  the 
habits  of  a  familiar  bird,  that  to  all  but  ornithologists  is  a 
veritable  swallow,  our  common  swift  or  "chimney-swal- 
low," then  I  am  fairly  staggered,  and  find  myself  saying 
beneath  my  breath,  "  After  all  -  - ! " 

In  conclusion,  then,  it  behooves  me  to  consider  this 
common  chimney-swallow  very  carefully  and  candidly, 
and  determine  how  far  certain  occurrences  that  I  have 
witessed  are  indicative  of  hibernation. 

In  a  large  unused  chimney  of  an  old  house  built  in 
1708,  standing  near  my  home,  thousands  of  chimney- 
swallows  annually  congregate,  arriving  in  April  —  or 
appearing  then — and  departing,  well!  I  am  not  certain 
when. 

Now,  this  chimney  has  an  internal  surface  of  about  four 
hundred  and  twenty-five  square  feet,  and,  allowing  one 
square  foot  to  each  nest,  will  accommodate  so  many  pairs 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE*  175 

of  swallows.  But  I  find  that  not  more  than  one  third  of 
the  available  space  is  utilized.  At  this  rate,  there  would 
be  one  hundred  and  forty  pairs  of  swallows  occupying 
the  chimney  at  one  time.  Now,  this  may  seem  like  a  fish 
story,  but  it  is  an  inconsiderable  fraction  of  the  truth.  I 
have  carefully  timed  by  my  watch  an  unbroken  line  of 
entering  and  out-going  swallows,  and  seen  them  in  these 
processions  steadily  enter  and  reappear  for  five  and  a  half 
minutes,  without  a  break,  each  bird  followed  by  another 
so  closely  that  intervening  spaces  were  scarcely  discern- 
ible. The  downward  and  upward  series  were  of  course 
different  birds  to  a  certain  extent,  and  it  is  a  fair  estimate 
to  say  that  fully  one  thousand  swallows  were  making  a 
nesting  and  roosting  place  of  this  one  chimney  at  the  one 
time. 

Not  the  least  curious  feature  of  these  large  colonies  is 
the  evident  fact  that  but  a  small  proportion  of  these  birds 
are  nesting  at  this  time ;  and  we  are  lost  in  amazement 
when  considering  that  the  fragile  eggs  and  tender  fledg- 
lings should  escape  destruction,  surrounded  as  they  are  by 
such  a  crowd  of  jostling,  climbing,  crawling,  tireless  swal- 
lows. Nor  is  it  at  all  easy  to  reach  any  definite  conclu- 
sion concerning  the  object  of  these  non-nesting  birds,  in 
thus  continuously  through  the  day  entering  their  roosting 
place — the  chimney. 

Now,  these  particulars  are  mentioned  in  this  connec- 
tion to  show  that  many  hundreds  of  these  birds  often 
roost  in  the  one  place,  and  must  be  very  closely  packed 
together  when  all  are  at  home.  For  a  portion  of  every 
twenty-four  hours  they  are  well  able  to  withstand  the  de- 
pressing influences  of  a  crowded  condition,  with  certainly 
a  minimum  of  fresh  air  to  breathe.  The  same  conditions 
would  prove  fatal  to  most  other  birds,  if  indeed  not  to  all 
others. 


176  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME.     • 

This  feature  of  the  summer  life  of  these  birds  please 
bear  in  mind. 

Any  time  after  the  middle  of  September  there  is  likely 
to  be  a  change.  A  severe  northeast  storm  coming,  they 
are  gone !  A  week  may  pass,  and  not  a  swallow  is  to  be 
seen.  You  may  listen  at  the  chimney  holes,  and  not  a 
swallow  is  to  be  heard.  The  sky  is  as  birdless  as  in  bleak 
December.  But  again  the  weather  becomes  warm  ;  our 
magnificent  October  days  are  come.  The  mellowest  sun- 
shine of  all  the  year  gilds  the  broad  meadows  and  adds  a 
glory  to  the  scarlet  maples ;  and  again  scores  of  chimney- 
swallows,  as  before,  are  flitting  all  day  long  in  the  cloudless 
skies.  Whence  come  these  birds  ?  They  are  not  so  many, 
indeed,  as  were  here  before  the  biting  northeast  winds 
bade  all  our  summer  birds  depart ;  but  far  too  many  to 
consider  them  as  mere  stragglers.  Indeed,  they  are  too 
strong  of  wing  to  be  thus  looked  upon.  We  felt,  or 
might  have  felt,  certain  that  the  swallows  had  gone ;  but 
with  the  returning  cheery  days  these  birds  are  again  with 
us.  Either  they  were  closely  stowed  away  during  the 
storm,  or  they  are  more  northern  birds  which,  leaving 
their  summer  haunts  beyond  the  track  of  the  storm  that 
visited  us,  had  only  reached  us  as  they  were  moving  south- 
ward after  the  storm  had  passed.  This,  I  think,  very 
likely  is  the  truth  of  the  matter ;  but  many  circumstances 
strongly  point  to  the  former  supposition — that  of  tempo- 
rary shelter  during  the  storm.  Here  is  an  instance.  On 
the  4th  of  October  of  the  past  year  the  weather  with  us 
was  warm,  the  thermometer  ranging  from  65°  to  85°  Fahr. 
Throughout  the  morning  there  was  a  brisk  shower,  or  series 
of  showers ;  but  by  2  r.  M.  it  had  cleared,  with  a  gentle 
wind  from  the  north.  It  gradually  grew  colder,  and  by 
sunrise  on  the  5th  the  temperature  had  fallen  to  40°  Fahr., 
and  the  wind  had  increased  in  violence.  All  this  day 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  177 

thousands  of  chimney-swallows  and  a  few  of  other  species 
were  seen  flying  southward,  keeping  as  near  to  the  ground 
as  possible,  just  avoiding  the  tree-tops,  and  in  open  spaces 
often  just  clearing  the  ground.  They  were  in  dense  flocks, 
and  appeared  to  be  driven  helplessly  before  the  cutting 
blasts  of  the  north  wind  then  prevailing.  The  weather 
moderated  the  next  day,  and  on  the  7th  of  the  month  there 
were  very  many  swallows  flying  about  just  as  usual ;  they 
did  not  finally  disappear  before  the  20th  of  October. 

Such  flocks  of  swallows  as  I  have  mentioned  are  cer- 
tainly indicative  of  a  voluntary  or  forced  migration  to  a 
certain  extent.  What  becomes  of  such  storm-driven  colo- 
nies (and  they  are  an  annual  occurrence)  I  cannot  say ; 
but  they  are  certainly  indicative  of  the  habit  of  migration 
obtaining  among  these  birds,  to  a  certain  extent.  On  the 
other  hand,  what  of  the  many  swallows  that  remained  for 
fully  two  weeks  after  the  storm  I  have  mentioned  ?  As 
bearing  upon  this  point,  the  following  is  worthy  of  note  : 
In  December,  1879,  I  had  occasion  to  have  a  wood-stove 
removed  from  a  fireplace,  and  one  for  burning  coal  put 
in  its  place.  The  removed  stove  had  not  had  a  fire  in  it 
for  nearly  a  year. .  On  detaching  the  pipe,  there  were 
found  seven  swallows  in  one  of  the  elbows,  occupying 
the  space  between  the  angle  and  the  damper.  They  were 
all  perfectly  well  and  comparatively  vigorous.  On  being 
placed  upon  the  floor  of  the  room,  they  soon  recovered 
their  full  senses,  and,  after  a  feeble  flight  about  the  room, 
passed  quickly  through  an  open  window  and  were  seen 
no  more.  The  great  bulk  of  the  chimney-swallows  appar- 
ently departed  by  the  25th  of  October  of  that  year.  I 
certainly  saw  none  later ;  yet  fifty-five  days  after  that 
date  seven  are  found,  in  fine  health  and  strength,  snugly 
stowed  away  in  a  stove-pipe.  It  is  fair  to  suppose  that 
they  had  lived  for  this  length  of  time  without  food.  If 


178  E AMBLES  ABOUT  HONE. 

so,  have  we  any  right  to  limit  the  length  of  time  that  they 
may  thus  remain  in  a  semi-torpid  or  hibernating  condi- 
tion ?  To  maintain  that  such  a  question  is  reasonable  is 
not  an  attempt  to  carry  water  upon  both  shoulders ;  for 
swallows'  hibernation  in  sheltered  places,  surrounded  by 
the  atmosphere,  is  vastly  different  from  lying  in  mud  at 
the  bottom  of  a  lake  or  the  ocean.  In  a  second  somewhat 
similar  instance  that  has  come  to  my  knowledge,  a  num- 
ber of  these  birds  were  found  in  a  hollow  sycamore  which 
was  cut  down  in  the  month  of  February.  These  birds 
were  dead  when  I  saw  them,  and  I  was  assured  by  the 
wood-cutter  that  they  were  stiff  and  cold  when  he  took 
them  from  the  tree.  They  were  not  frozen,  however, 
and  the  appearance,  on  dissection,  was  such  as  to  lead  to 
the  belief  that  they  had  died  but  very  recently ;  certainly 
before  the  tree  was  cut  down,  but  not  long  previously. 
There  was  no  decomposition  ;  some  trace  of  fatty  tissue, 
and  the  blood  liquid ;  the  bowels  and  stomach  empty,  but 
moist,  soft,  and  flexible. 

In  this  case,  happening  during  a  remarkably  mild 
winter,  that  of  1879-'80,  it  is  possible  that  swallows  might 
survive  in  such  quarters,  when  a  season  of  ordinary  sever- 
ity would  destroy  them. 

It  is  claimed  that  we  do  not  know  where  the  winter 
haunts  of  these  birds  are ;  if  so,  may  it  not  be  that,  like 
the  almost  as  abundant  bats,  these  birds  congregate  in 
caves  or  hollow  trees  \  But  if  we  grant  this  much,  these 
hibernating  places  are  not  to  be  looked  for  in  New  Eng- 
land or  the  Middle  States,  but  so  far  south  as  to  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  severest  frosts  of  our  winters.  Certainly, 
did  they  hibernate  with  us,  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
bats,  their  hiding-places  would  have  been  discovered  far 
oftener  than  even  such  instances  as  I  have  related  have 
been  noticed.  As  a  thousand  or  more  may  be  found  in 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  179 

one  chimney  during  summer,  it  is  fair  to  presume  that, 
in  hibernating,  equal  numbers  would  then  also  be  congre- 
gated. No  such  swallow  bonanza  is  yet  upon  record. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  chimney-swallows  are  thus  dis- 
posed of  during  winter,  it  becomes  easy  to  account  for 
stragglers  that,  for  some  unknown  reasons,  have  not  joined 
the  innumerable  ranks  of  their  fellows  in  their  southern 
flight ;  but  which,  in  lieu  of  this,  have  essayed  to  brave 
the  winter  by  seeking  such  shelter,  in  protected  places,  as 
they  may  find.  That  such  stragglers  can  survive  an  ordi- 
nary winter  has  not  been  shown — can  not  be,  until  they 
are  taken  in  full  vigor  from  their  hiding-places  at  the 
close  of  the  season.  To  find  living  swallows  in  a  cave, 
tree,  or  chimney  in  February  or  March,  would  be  a  deci- 
sive matter;  to  find  such  birds  before  New-Year's-day 
does  not  show  that  they  would  be  able  to  remain  in  health 
the  season  through,  and  reappear  in  fall  vigor  in  March 
or  April. 

Judging  solely  from  my  own  scanty  observations,  the 
chimney-swallow  is  practically  a  migratory  bird,  so  far  as 
New  Jersey  is  concerned.  In  what  manner  the  winter 
is  spent  beyond  our  boundaries,  I  can  not  say,  but  offer 
such  trivial  instances  as  I  have  related  as  possibly  confirm- 
atory of  the  belief  on  the  part  of  many,  that,  like  bats, 
they  strictly  hibernate.  It  remains  as  yet,  however,  an 
open  question  ;  but  to  discover  that  such  was  really  true 
of  them  would  have  little  bearing  upon  such  a  strange 
belief  as  that  true  swallows  hibernate  in  mud. 

What  is  still  needed  is  a  system  of  the  most  careful 
observations,  made  without  a  trace  of  preconceived  opin- 
ions. "What  child  but  thinks  that  our  flying-squirrels 
really  fly,  instead  of  sail  through  the  air !  Too  often,  igno- 
rant ourselves,  we  give  evasive  answers  to  our  children, 
and  many  errors  are  thus  perpetuated  by  the  world  at 


180  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

large,  which  a  little  patient  observation  might  readily 
have  checked.  On  the  other  hand,  when  we  affect  to 
become  observers,  how  often  do  we  rashly  jump  at  con- 
clusions based  upon  deceptive  appearances!  Certainly, 
in  my  own  brief  experience,  I  can  only  testify  to  the 
apparent  reality  of  a  bird,  less  common  than  swallows, 
but  superabundant  in  New  Jersey,  hibernating  in  mud. 
I  refer  to  the  little  rail,  or  sora.  Early  in  August,  with 
all  the  regularity  of  the  passing  seasons,  these  birds  sud- 
denly appear  in  vast  numbers,  in  the  meadows  skirting 
the  Delaware  River.  Now,  ornithologists  know  well 
enough  that  the  rail  is  strictly  migratory ;  but  I  have 
yet  to  see  the  first  gunner,  or  other  person  familiar  with 
our  meadows,  who  ever  saw  a  rail-bird  earlier  than  in 
July,  and  seldom  then.  Nevertheless  they  are  here  weeks 
prior  to  that  month,  but  so  closely  do  they  keep  them- 
selves to  the  muddy,  weed-grown  marshes,  that  their 
detection  is  well-nigh  impracticable.  Of  course,  there 
must  be  taken  into  consideration  the  fact  that,  prior  to 
the  middle  of  August,  they  are  not  sought  for ;  but  then, 
and  until  after  frost,  thousands  are  killed  by  the  gunners. 
Now,  the  gunners,  the  farmers,  and  those  whose  business 
or  inclination  takes  them  to  these  marshes,  know  the  rail- 
birds  as  a  suddenly  acquired  feature  of  the  locality,  and, 
if  they  see  them,  see  them  running  lightly  over  the 
mud  that  skirts  the  ditches  in  our  marshy  meadows. 
They  are  as  much  a  feature  of  such  localities  as  frogs ; 
but,  unlike  them,  they  are  extremely  sensitive  to  frost. 
It  is  not  strange,  perhaps,  that  the  impression  of  hiberna- 
tion should  have  been  entertained  with  reference  to  this 
bird ;  but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  mere  sudden 
disappearance  should  not  suggest  hibernation  in  the  mind 
of  any  thoughtful  person.  Birds  that  migrate  by  day, 
rather  than  in  the  night,  disappear  as  suddenly  as  do  the 


DO  SWALLOWS  HIBERNATE?  181 

rail-birds,  but,  being  seen  on  their  migratorial  journeys,  of 
course  are  not  invested  with  any  peculiar  habits. 

It  seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  those  who  insist 
upon  the  hibernation  of  the  rail-bird  in  the  mud,  that  a 
still  greater  mystery  is  the  impulse  that  should  affect  all 
these  birds  at  the  one  moment ;  for  their  sudden  and 
simultaneous  disappearance  is  always  insisted  upon.  The 
truth  is,  however,  that  they  do  not  disappear  all  together. 
After  the  first  hard  frost,  be  it  early  or  late,  the  great 
majority  of  them  promptly  disappear ;  but  a  fraction  of 
their  former  numbers  remain.  Now,  what  I  believe  to 
be  a  rational  explanation  of  the  apparent  hibernation  is 
this :  The  number  of  rail-birds  in  a  given  tract  of  marsh 
is  suddenly  greatly  diminished  (this  occurs  on  the  day  fol- 
lowing the  first  hard  frost)  ;  those  that  remain  are  often 
weak  of  wing ;  and  many  are  found  dead,  probably  hav- 
ing been  wounded  by  the  gunners.  One  and  all  are 
found  only  in  the  marshes,  and  coupled  with  these  facts 
is  the  one  more  important  than  all,  that  the  rails  are  not 
seen  migrating.  They  invariably  depart  at  night.  Herein 
lies  the  solution  of  the  common  impression — one  far  more 
prevalent  than  that  concerning  our  swallows,  whose  move- 
ments we  can  watch.  While  we  are  familiar  with  the 
rail-birds,  they  are  associated  with  frogs  and  the  aquatic 
life  of  our  marshes.  Frost  comes  and  they  are  gone. 
We  do  not  see  either  frogs  or  rail-birds  disappear;  but 
we  know  where  the  frogs  are,  and,  remembering  the  am- 
phibian habits  of  these  birds,  we  continue  to  associate 
them  with  the  croaking  frogs,  and  relegate  to  the  mud 
these  timid,  weak- winged  birds.  But,  in  truth,  they  have 
gathered  their  long-husbanded  strength,  and,  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  frosty  night,  have  winged  their  way  south- 
ward without  a  sign. 

As  I  pointed  out  in  the  case  of  the  swallows,  many 


182  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

are  unable  to  undertake  the  journey.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  thousands  that  are  crippled  by  the  sportsman  remain 
in  the  marshes  all  the  winter,  but  they  finally  succumb  to 
the  rigor  of  the  season. 

It  would  seem  as  if  such  old  and  crippled  birds  had 
been  made  the  objects  of  careful  study,  and  from  them 
alone  facts  had  been  derived  which  have  been  offered 
and  accepted  as  embodying  the  authentic  life-histories 
of  these  birds. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A    SECLUDED     CORNER. 

ONCE,  in  the  far  distant  past — perhaps  so  long  ago 
that  a  vestige  of  the  ancient  glacier  of  the  river  valley 
still  lingered  on  the  distant  mountains — a  broad  and  shal- 
low creek  meandered  through  the  meadows  that  skirt  the 
river,  and,  after  a  mile  or  more  of  independent  flow,  was 
lost  in  the  greater  volume  of  that  stream.  This  little 
creek,  fed  by  springs  that  issued  from  the  bluff  that  runs 
parallel  to  the  rivers  course,  pursued  its  winding  way 
through  a  dense  growth  of  hickory,  oak,  birch,  and  maple. 
Along  its  banks  the  Indian  roamed,  and  in  its  quiet 
waters  he  found  an  abundance  of  fishes.  There  was  a 
time,  too,  when  the  spot  was  beautiful,  and  there  still 
remains  a  vestige  of  its  former  beauty ;  but  only  by 
careful  searching  can  it  be  recognized.  The  springs 
that  gave  this  creek  its  volume  of  waters  have  sought 
other  channels ;  the  coming  of  the  white  man  proved  the 
destruction  of  the  forest ;  and  now  there  is  left  only  the 
half-dry  channel,  choked  with  rank  grasses,  bulrushes  and 
reeds.  This  to  the  farmer  is  an  eye-sore,  as  it  yields  him 
no  profit ;  but  to  me  it  is  indeed  a  pleasant  place,  for  I 
find  a  charm  in  the  wild  growths,  teeming  as  they  are 
with  feathered  occupants.  In  place  of  the  forest,  there 
are  now  broad  stretches  of  dry  pasture,  with  here  and 
there  a  single  oak  or  hickory  left  to  tell  the  story.  For- 
tunately in  one  corner  of  this  low-lying  tract,  called  the 


184:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HONE. 

"  mucky  meadow,"  there  remains  a  clump  of  large  maples, 
pin-oaks  and  birches,  which  have  somehow  been  spared 
by  the  former  owners  of  the  land.  They  are  mine  now 
and  are  safe.  This  out-of-the-way  corner  is  a  whole  libra- 
ry of  natural  history  to  him  who  knows  how  to  read  it 
through.  I  do  not  believe  I  ever  can  do  so,  but  I  have 
made  some  progress,  and  this  is  what  I  have  learned. 

Where  the  ancient  creek  makes  an  abrupt  turn  to  the 
east,  and  where  now  the  mucky  meadow  begins,  stand 
these  maples  and  oaks.  Perhaps  they  are  not  very  old, 
but  doubtless  their  ancestors  stood  there  before  them  ;  and 
in  the  hollows  of  those  earlier  trees  the  forefathers  of  the 
owls  that  are  now  here,  lived,  and  hooted  and  screamed 
in  the  ears  of  the  superstitious  Indians,  who  trapped  the 
otters  and  beavers  that  then  abounded  in  these  waters. 

The  mucky  meadow  itself  has  both  a  geological  and 
an  archaeological  history,  full  of  interest ;  but  these  are 
subjects  upon  which  I  can  not  dwell  at  this  time,  my  only 
object  being  to 'call  attention  to  its  many  merits  in  an 
ornithological  point  of  view. 

It  is  here,  at  the  first  intimation  of  the  coming  spring, 
that  the  red-winged  blackbirds  congregate  and  fill  the 
air  with  their  delightful  music.  It  is  here,  in  mid-sum- 
mer, that  the  swamp-sparrow  loves  to  dwell,  and  vies 
with  the  marsh-wrens  in  enlivening  the  rank  growth  of 
aquatic  grasses.  It  is  here  that  the  little  soras  or  rail- 
birds  congregate,  and  thread  their  way  through  the  dense 
growth  that  mats  the  meadow.  It  is  here  that,  in  early 
autumn,  the  bob-o-links,  in  russet  dress,  swing  from  the 
tall  reeds  and  repeat  in  mournful  monotone  their  tire- 
some "  chink  " — "  chink.  "  Let  us  pass  these  by  and 
wait  until  October.  With  the  first  white  frost  there 
comes  a  change  in  the  foliage.  If  the  summer  has  been 
wet  (very  rarely  the  case  of  late  years)  the  leaves  will 


A  SECLUDED   CORNER.  185 

turn  to  beautiful  shades  of  crimson  and  gold ;  but,  if 
there  has  been  a  drought,  then  they  are  merely  browned 
and  soon  drop.  In  either  case,  it  is  in  October,  and  not 
until  then,  that  we  fully  realize  the  summer  is  past. 
With,  this  change,  there  comes  another  quite  as  marked 
in  the  animal  life.  The  few  birds  that  remain  change 
their  habits  materially,  while  the  many  summer  sojourn- 
ers  seek  a  sunnier  clime.  The  birds  that  went  northward 
in  May  now  return,  and  after  tarrying  a  few  days  pass 
on  to  the  south ;  and  late  in  the  month  arctic  and  semi- 
arctic  birds  come  among  us  to  remain  during  the  winter. 
In  our  secluded  corner,  however,  there  too  comes  a 
change  that  I  am  ever  ready  to  greet  with  gladness.  The 
hollow  maple,  that  throughout  the  summer  has  securely 
housed  a  family  of  short-eared  owls,  now  gives  us  evi- 
dence of  the  fact,  by  dropping  the  leafy  screen  that  hid 
them  well  from  view.  While  the  young  were  yet  babies 
the  old  tree  shielded  them  well — now  they  are  able  to 
shift  for  themselves,  and  the  tree  offers  them  shelter,  but 
nothing  more.  With  the  departure  of  the  sunlight  the 
owls  are  all  astir,  and  it  is  funny  enough  to  see  them. 
Of  a  single  owl  but  little  can  be  said;  but  before  the 
family  separates,  and  while  the  young  are  receiving  their 
lessons  in  mouse-hunting,  it  becomes  very  evident,  first, 
that  owls  are  great  talkers ;  and  secondly,  that  they  are 
decidedly  intelligent.  I  was  impressed  with  these  facts 
during  a  pleasant  moonlight  evening  last  October,  when, 
having  taken  my  stand  to  watch  the  owls,  I  saw  the 
whole  family  of  six  as  they  came  from  their  nest  in  the 
tree.  The  old  birds  first  appeared,  flew  directly  toward 
the  meadow  and  disappeared  in  the  long  grass.  Soon 
the  four  young  birds  made  their  appearance,  but  only  to 
creep  cautiously  along  the  limbs  of  the  tree,  and  then  set- 
tle themselves,  in  a  lazy,  mufned-up  manner,  as  though 


186  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

nothing  remained  to  be  done.  All  the  while  the  old 
birds  kept  up  a  peculiar  call — more  like  a  scream  than  a 
hoot — not  altogether  unpleasant  to  the  ear.  I  am  in 
doubt  whether  the  young  owls  made  any  reply,  though 
I  took  a  faint  clicking  noise  to  be  such.  In  a  little  while, 
however,  they  began  to  get  hungry,  and  then  they  uttered 
unmistakable  cries,  to  which  the  parent  owls  replied  by 
returning  to  the  tree.  In  the  beak  of  each  owl  was  a 
mouse,  or  what  I  took  to  be  such,  and  when  they  alighted 
on  the  maple  I  could  detect,  in  the  uncertain  light,  that 
they  did  not  approach  closely  to  the  young  birds,  but, 
having  removed  the  mice,  which  they  now  held  in  their 
claws,  they  chattered  and  screamed  to  their  young,  in  a 
manner  that  could  only  be  interpreted  as,  "  Come  over 
here  and  get  your  mouse."  It  was  evident  that  the 
young  owls  were  to  be  taught  to  help  themselves,  and  to 
practice  their  power  of  flight.  As  an  inducement  to  do 
the  latter,  the  mice  were  held  temptingly  before  them  but 
quite  out  of  reach.  Finally,  one  young  owl,  more  ven- 
turesome than  his  fellows,  essayed  to  fly,  but  it  was 
a  miserable  failure,  for,  instead  of  reaching  the  desired 
branch,  it  fell  short  a  foot  or  more,  and  tumbled  to  the 
ground.  I  can  not  prove  that  owls  laugh,  but  I  think  any 
one  who  heard  the  old  birds  just  then  would  never  doubt 
the  fact  that  they  do.  The  funniest  feature,  however, 
was  that  the  three  remaining  young  birds  were  disgusted 
with  what  they  saw,  or  were  frightened  by  it — at  all 
events,  they  hastened  back  to  the  nest,  and  I  saw  them 
no  more  that  evening. 

Of  the  poor  fellow  that  fell  to  the  ground  there  is 
much  to  be  said,  as  it  was  with  it  that  the  old  birds  were 
now  wholly  concerned,  and  their  actions  were  highly 
entertaining.  Leaving  the  tree  they  flew  down  to  the 
hapless  bird,  and  muttered  in  low  tones  to  it,  in  a  most 


A  SECLUDED   CORNEE.  187 

sympathizing  manner.  Their  utterances  now,  which  I 
could  hear  notwithstanding  the  racket  made  by  the  frogs, 
were  very  varied,  and  gave  the  impression  that  they  were 
holding  a  conversation.  After  the  lapse  of  a  minute  or 
more  the  old  birds  together  took  a  short,  low  flight,  and 
then  returned  to  the  young  owl.  Was  it  not  to  show  it 
how  easy  flight  was  ?  Then  again  they  flew  away,  in  the 
same  manner,  and  the  young  owl  endeavored  to  follow. 
It  was  with  evident  difficulty  that  it  left  the  ground,  but 
when  once  its  feet  were  clear  of  the  grass  it  progressed 
satisfactorily,  though  only  for  a  short  distance.  This 
pleased  the  old  birds,  for  one  of  them  came  to  the  plucky 
little  fellow,  and,  with  one  wing  extended,  patted  the 
young  bird  on  the  head  and  back  most  tenderly.  At  this 
I  laughed  aloud,  most  unfortunately,  and  immediately 
the  old  birds  flew  to  the  nesting-tree,  and  then  discovered 
my  hiding-place.  Of  all  the  scoldings  I  ever  got,  that 
from  the  owls,  this  evening,  was  the  severest.  As  I 
moved  away  I  recalled  the  oft-witnessed  scene  of  the 
king-birds  worrying  crows.  It  was  the  same  thing  in 
my  case.  Keeping  just  out  of  reach  of  my  cane,  they 
swooped  about  my  head  and  snapped  their  bills  viciously. 
They  did  not  dare  to  strike  me,  but  they  came  unpleas- 
antly near,  and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  comfort  that  I 
finally  reached  safer  quarters. 

Another  feature  of  this  secluded  corner  is  worthy  of 
mention.  The  herons  for  many  years  have  occupied  it 
as  a  roost,  and  every  spring  the  little  green  "  fly-up-the- 
creek "  has  nested  in  the  maples  here.  Their  nest  is  a 
slight  structure  of  coarse  twigs,  and  the  contents  consist 
of  two  dirty-green  eggs,  which  disappear  in  good  time, 
and  their  place  is  taken  up  by  as  comical  a  pair  of  dirty- 
tinted  down-clad  creatures  as  can  be  seen.  When  the 
birds  are  less  than  a  week  old  the  nest  is  often  forsaken, 


188  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

and  the  downy,  awkward  birds  find  a  resting  place  on 
some  convenient  branch.  Apparently  they  are  quite  at 
home,  though  they  do  not  look  as  if  they  were  wholly 
comfortable.  Their  legs  are  not  fully  equal  to  the  task 
of  supporting  the  body  for  any  length  of  time  ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  art  of  sitting  down  gracefully  has 
not  yet  been  acquired. 

As  these  little  green  herons  usually  build  in  small 
colonies,  sometimes  four  or  six  nests  are  in  one  tree. 
One  summer,  some  few  years  ago,  there  were  three  nests 
in  this  tree,  and  when  the  birds  were  about  ten  days  old 
every  nest  had  tumbled  down,  and  five  young  herons  sat 
in  a  row  on  one  of  the  horizontal  branches.  They  were 
an  odd-looking  company,  and,  so  far  as  the  parent  birds 
were  concerned,  it  must  have  been  a  difficult  matter  to 
recognize  their  own  offspring. 

When  young  herons  happen  to  fall  to  the  ground,  as 
is  frequently  the  case,  they  are  then  beset  by  several 
enemies,  two  of  which  are  of  unusual  interest.  These 
are  the  musk-rat  and  the  snapping-turtle.  The  homes  of 
both  all  summer  are  essentially  aquatic.  The  musk-rat 
does  not  often  leave  the  water,  and  it  is  supposed  that 
the  snapper  never  does  at  this  time  of  year.  When, 
however,  it  happens  that  a  young  heron  or  two  fall  to 
the  ground,  the  parent  birds  notify  the  neighborhood  to- 
ward night-fall,  and  among  those  that  quickly  respond, 
or  at  least  are  attracted  by  the  sounds,  are  the  musk-rats 
and  snappers.  If  either  chance  to  find  the  young  birds 
they  are  quickly  disposed  of,  although  the  parents  offer  a 
vigorous,  and  at  times  an  effectual,  defense.  A  most  in- 
teresting point  is  that  if,  as  appearances  indicate,  the 
snapper  was  attracted  by  the  cries  of  the  herons,  was  it 
out  of  the  water  at  the  time,  or  has  it  so  acute  a  sense 
of  hearing  that  it  is  cognizant  of  occurrences  above 


A  SECLUDED   CORNER.  189 

water,  and  at  a  distance  of  nearly  two  rods  ?  I  have  twice 
seen  a  snapper  in  broad  daylight  seize  a  young  heron  that 
had  fallen  from  the  nest;  and  once  witnessed  the  suc- 
cessful effort  of  the  old  herons  to  drive  off  a  musk-rat. 
Possibly  in  the  matter  of  the  turtle  it  was  a  mere  coinci- 
dence, the  turtle  happening  to  pass  by  as  the  heron  fell. 
It  may  have  been  so,  but  I  do  not  believe  it ;  and  I  pin 
my  faith  on  the  chance  saying  of  an  old  fisherman,  who 
once  said  to  me,  "  Snappers  don't  stick  so  close  to  the 
water  as  people  think." 

During  the  very  open  winter  of  1879-'80,  a  pair  of 
night  herons  or  "quoks"made  this  tree  their  roosting- 
place.  During  the  day  they  sat  silent,  and  nearly  motion- 
less, close  to  the  main  stem  of  the  tree,  and  so  were  incon- 
spicuous and  therefore  safe.  Near  by,  in  the  meadow, 
is  a  large  spring,  about  which  the  grass  always  remains 
green.  Here,  too,  a  few  minnows  and  fewer  frogs  re- 
mained in  full  vigor,  and  I  suppose  from  this  source 
their  scanty  food-supply  was  derived.  During  the  clear, 
moonlight  evenings  of  this  winter,  it  was  truly  an  un- 
canny feature  of  this  corner  to  see  this  pair  of  night 
herons  or  "  quoks "  sally  from  the  leafless  maples,  and, 
while  flying  over  the  meadow,  to  hear  them  cry  with  a 
harsh  voice  that  was  the  more  ghost-like  in  the  still  air 
of  a  mid-winter  night.  Perhaps  the  cry  was  answered 
by  the  cat-like  scream  of  the  long-eared  owl,  and,  if  so, 
the  secluded  corner  was  for  the  time  a  weird  spot  in- 
deed, and  one  to  be  shunned  by  those  unfortunates  who 
have  no  taste  for  Nature  in  her  wilder  aspects. 

How  little  would  any  one,  who  simply  passed  during 
the  day,  imagine  the  variety  of  forms  of  animal  life  that 
congregates  in  such  a  corner.  The  hollow  in  the  large 
maple  is  not  visible  from  the  ground,  and  yet  it  is  a  capa- 
cious cavern,  and  the  home  of  owls  nearly  the  whole 


190  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

year  through.  In  a  tortuous  burrow  at  the  roots  of  the 
tree  is  the  home  of  a  pair  of  minks,  that  have  laughed 
at  all  my  traps ;  in  a  black  oak  near  by  there  are  opos- 
sums nearly  always  to  be  found,  and  in  the  long  grass  of 
the  meadow  the  musk-rat  has  his  home.  A  few  of  the 
birds  I  have  already  mentioned.  What  need,  then,  to 
travel  to  distant  parts  with  such  a  wealth  of  entertaining 
life  near  by  ?  I  have  been  familiar  with  all  these  mam- 
mals, birds,  reptiles,  and  fishes,  from  my  earliest  years,  yet 
not  one  of  them  is  so  well  known  that  a  day's  study  of 
them,  in  their  own  homes,  does  not  yield  something  new. 
Lingering  by  the  hour  in  this  secluded  corner,  I  have 
heard  owls  utter  sounds  that  are  nowhere  recorded  as 
within  the  range  of  their  cries ;  I  have  watched  the 
wary  woodcocks  performing  their  aerial  dances,  if  they 
may  be  so  called  ;  I  have  seen  the  fierce  snapping-tur- 
tle  play  the  gentle  lover ;  and,  when  all  was  covered 
deep  with  winter's  accumulated  snows,  I  have  tracked 
the  musk-rat  to  his  home ;  and  sought  out  the  mink, 
the  opossum,  and  the  skunk,  in  their  retreats  among  the 
trees.  Yerily,  in  such  a  corner,  one  may  ceaselessly  turn 
the  pages  of  the  book  of  Nature,  and  never  weary  in  so 
doing. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THREE   BEECHES. 

I  HAVE  often  wondered  that  these  sole  remaining 
traces  of  the  primeval  forest  did  not  die  of  chagrin  when 
they  saw  how  sadly  changed  everything  was  about  them. 
However,  they  still  stand  as  glorious  monuments  of  a  splen- 
did long  ago,  guarding  a  little  space  of  air  if  not  of  earth, 
wherein,  unmolested,  the  year  round,  birds  may  congre- 
gate in  safety. 

These  three  beeches  are  not  simply  three  enormous 
trees ;  but  they  are,  collectively,  my  beautiful  aviary.  I 
doubt  if  a  day  passes,  the  year  round,  that  at  least  one 
bird  does  not  tarry  in  their  branches ;  and  it  is  in  this 
aspect  only  that  I  purpose  writing  of  them. 

Let  us  glance  at  them  in  mid- winter.  Even  then,  we 
are  sure  to  find  blue-jays  screaming  amid  the  labyrinth 
of  leafless  branches  that  crown  the  trees.  Common  as 
they  are,  and  in  spite  of  many  unattractive  ways,  these 
birds  are  worthy  of  careful  study.  There  is  much  more 
in  them  than  those  who  know  them  only  as  "  noisy  gos- 
sips "  would  suspect.  For  the  past  three  years  a  half- 
dozen  or  more  of  them  have  been  living,  from  November 
to  March,  in  these  beeches,  and  have  afforded  me  no  end 
of  amusement. 

Just  where  they  roost  I  am  not  quite  sure,  but  I 
think  in  a  haymow  near  by.  Be  this  as  it  may,  as  soon 
as  the  night  is  spent  the  birds  are  astir,  and,  screaming 


192  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

harshly  and  incessantly,  as  is  their  wont,  they  thread  their 
way  through  the  innumerable  branches.  In  so  doing, 
they  use  their  wings  less  than  other  birds,  except  the  par- 
rots. They  climb  from  twig  to  twig,  and  walk  with  quite 
a  stately  mien  along  the  stouter  branches,  when  not  too 
upright.  Thus  up  and  down  the  tree,  they  pick  now 
and  then  a  nut,  but  do  not  appear  to  spend  much  time  in 
feeding. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  although  so  large,  these  jays 
are  by  no  means  conspicuous  when  sitting  quietly  on  the 
leafless  branches  of  a  large  beech.  The  color  of  the  bark 
is  not  unlike  that  of  the  bird,  and  I  am  quite  inclined  to 
believe  that  the  birds  themselves  are  conscious  of  the 
fact.  When  disturbed,  as  by  the  report  of  a  gun,  I  have, 
time  after  time,  seen  them  cling  as  closely  to  a  broad 
branch,  as  ever  did  a  cunning  gray  squirrel  when  fright- 
ened. So  marked  is  this  that  I  am  tempted  to  ask  myself 
whether  it  was  not  possible  that  they  had  learned  the 
trick  from  the  squirrels.  Bright  and  showy  as  is  their 
plumage,  these  birds  give  evidence  of  knowing  that  under 
certain  circumstances  it  does  not  render  them  conspic- 
uous, and  they  act  accordingly.  I  have  noticed,  too,  that 
they  will  hide  successfully  in  white  oaks,  during  winter ; 
but  here  they  trust  altogether  to  the  clusters  of  leaves 
that  remain  on  the  tree  throughout  the  season.  I  have 
seen  them  creep  into  a  cluster  of  such  leaves  and  remain 
motionless,  although  I  was  very  near  them  at  the  time. 
In  this  case  they  evidently  realized  that  no  similarity  of 
color  existed,  and  that  their  only  protection  arose  from 
cover ;  hence  they  sought  it.  If  I  am  correct,  it  shows 
that  the  color  sense  is  very  well  developed  in  the  jays. 
Indeed,  they  have  all  the  intelligence  of  their  cousins,  the 
crows ;  and  as  they  are  driven  now  from  their  ancient 
haunts  in  the  thick  woods,  by  the  general  destruction  of 


THREE  BEECHES.  193 

forests,  they  are  competed  to  make  good  use  of  their  wits 
in  order  to  thrive  in  the  open  country.  Their  plumage 
is  against  them,  and  they  know  it ;  and  their  ingenuity 
is  on  the  increase,  it  may  be,  to  enable  them  to  overcome 
the  difficulties  incident  to  their  newer  surroundings.  Dur- 
ing the  past  summer  a  pair  of  these  birds  built  their  nest 
in  a  small  white  oak  near  the  house.  It  was  constructed  of 
dead  twigs,  and  placed  in  a  crotch  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
be  quite  inconspicuous ;  and  the  parent  birds,  when  on 
,  the  nest,  so  arranged  themselves  as  readily  to  escape  no- 
tice. They  kept  their  heads  below  the  level  of  the  nest, 
and  so  disposed  of  their  tails  that  not  a  feather  was 
visible  from  below.  Nor  were  these  birds  noisy  dur- 
ing the  nesting  season.  Indeed,  it  was  only  by  chance 
that  I  found  their  nest,  days  after  the  young  were 
hatched. 

Unless  very  carefully  observed,  a  family  of  jays  in  win- 
ter would  give  the  impression  that  they  were  exceedingly 
quarrelsome.  This,  I  think,  is  not  true.  Not  that  quarrels 
do  not  arise  among  them,  for  they  do  occur  quite  often, 
and  sometimes  end  in  the  death  of  one  of  the  combatants  ; 
but  the  greater  part  of  their  noisy  vivacity  and  excited 
antics  is  merely  the  result  of  boisterous  play.  This  I 
conclude,  because  I  have  frequently  noticed  that  when 
taking  protracted  flights  they  are  often  as  full  of  talk  as 
when  perched  upon  the  topmost  branch  of  some  tall  tree. 
They  will  often  even  turn  in  their  flight  to  those  far 
behind,  and  chatter  long  and  loudly,  as  though  chiding 
the  laggards.  In  spite  of  their,  noise,  it  is  evident  that 
it  is  the  chatter  of  excited  but  not  necessarily  angry 
birds. 

There  is  yet  another  phase  of  jay  life  worthy  of  men- 
tion, and  I  can  best  introduce  the  subject  by  seriously 
asking,  Do  they  ever  dance  ?  I  scarcely  feel  justified  in 


194  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

giving  an  affirmative  answer;  and  yet  some  of  their  an- 
tics have  impressed  me  with  the  idea  that  such  might  be 
the  case.  One  glorious  day  in  January,  three  years  ago, 
I  heard  a  company  of  these  birds  screaming  and  chatter- 
ing as  usual  among  the  beeches.  Although  so  jay-like  in 
general,  still  there  was  a  peculiarity  in  the  multitudinous 
sounds  that  made  me  think  that  something  had  gone 
wrong  among  them.  An  owl  perhaps  had  caught  one  of 
them.  I  straightway  sought  a  convenient  spot  from 
which  I  might  see  what  was  going  on,  and  I  soon  saw 
that  something  unusual  had  occurred.  My  first  view  of 
them  showed  some  dozen  or  fifteen  birds  settled  near 
each  other  on  convenient  branches,  while  two  others  oc- 
cupied a  broad,  and  nearly  horizontal,  branch.  These 
latter  were  not  sitting  quietly  by  any  means.  When 
first  seen  they  were  standing  together,  but  immediately 
separated  and  ran  from  each  other  as  far  as  the  branch 
would  allow  ;  then,  turning,  they  half  opened  their  wings 
and  spread  their  tail-feathers  much  as  a  turkey  does,  and, 
in  this  manner,  with  head  well  up  and  crest  erected,  they 
hopped  in  measured  leaps  toward  each  other,  giving  a 
loud  chirp  at  each  forward  movement.  When  they  met 
the  spectators  joined  in  a  shrill  clamor  of  discordant  cries, 
which  continued  until  the  two  dancing  jays  had  sepa- 
rated. These  two  birds  simply  met  and  parted.  There 
was  no  further  demonstration.  These  curious  antics 
were  repeated  several  times ;  and  then  suddenly,  with- 
out any  apparent  reason,  the  whole  company  took 
flight. 

I  have  witnessed  such  an  occurrence  but  the  once, 
though  I  never  fail  to  think  of  it  and  look  for  its  repetition 
when  the  jays  are  in  the  beeches.  Had  it  occurred  two 
months  later,  I  should  have  though  it  an  exhibition  by 
two  males  who  were  trying  to  attract  the  notice  of  cer- 


THREE  BEECHES.  195 

tain  females  among  the  spectators ;  but  happening,  as  it 
did,  in  midwinter,  it  had  all  the  appearance  to  me  of  a 
kind  of  amusement  which  is  probably  indulged  in  but 
seldom. 

Last  July  I  spent  a  memorable  morning  under  these 
beeches.  Something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  birds,  and 
the  occupants  of  two  neighboring  wren-boxes  were  dis- 
cussing the  situation.  There  was  no  quarreling,  but  the 
primp  and  prompt  wrens  were  in  great  earnest,  as  their 
chattering  and  the  energetic  bobbing  of  heads  and  tails 
plainly  indicated.  My  first  impression  was  that  the  occu- 
pants of  one  house  had  trespassed  upon  the  domains  of  the 
other,  and  this  is  a  thing  that  no  wren  will  tolerate  for  a 
moment.  When  two  or  more  pairs  of  them  have  nests  in 
close  proximity,  they  parcel  out  the  immediate  surround- 
ings, and  each,  when  foraging,  limits  itself  to  a  range 
that  does  not  approach  the  others'  houses  very  closely. 
If  such  a  thing  does  occur,  nine  times  in  ten  there's  a 
row. 

The  wrens  in  the  beeches  that  July  morning,  how- 
ever, had  a  common  cause  to  discuss,  and  their  utterances 
and  actions  were  wholly  different  from  any  sounds  I  had 
heard  before,  coming  even  from  an  excited  wren.  Had 
I  not  seen  the  birds,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  recognized 
their  voices.  After  some  five  minutes  or  more  of  most 
animated  discussion,  a  plan  of  action  was  decided  upon ; 
at  least,  the  wrens  left  the  beeches  in  company,  and.  I 
was  not  slow  to  follow.  They  returned — as  I  supposed 
they  would — to  the  house  of  one  of  the  pairs  of  wrens, 
and  settled  upon  its  roof  and  upon  the  little  perch  at  the 
entrance.  When  I  came  to  the  spot,  I  saw,  at  a  glance, 
wherein  the  trouble  lay.  A  pestiferous  English  sparrow 
had  taken  possession  of  the  box,  and  "  cleaned  out "  the 
wrens.  The  sorry  interloper  was  at  the  time  inside,  and 


196  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

could  not  be  dislodged.  There  was  fun  ahead,  I  fore- 
saw, so  I  took  up  a  position  favorable  for  witnessing  the 
denouement. 

The  wrens  took  their  stands  near  by  and  quietly 
waited  for  the  sparrow  to  appear.  This  it  did  not  do  im- 
mediately, and  one  of  the  wrens  became  quite  uneasy. 
It  chirped  and  twittered  in  a  restless  manner,  and  finally 
flew  to  the  wren-box  near  by,  and  entered  it.  I  suppose 
it  was  a  parent-bird  anxious  about  its  eggs  or  young. 
At  any  rate,  it  did  not  reappear  upon  the  scene.  Some 
ten  long  minutes  passed,  and  still  no  signs  of  the  sparrow. 
The  three  wrens  that  remained  never  once  quit  their 
posts,  and,  wonderfully  strange  !  they  had  nothing  to  say. 
Finally,  the  sparrow  thrust  his  head  out  and  took  an  ob- 
servation. Immediately  the  wrens  assumed  a  "make 
ready  "  attitude  and  awaited  his  coming. 

Things  looked  ugly  for  the  sparrow,  and  so  it  thought, 
I  imagine.  Still,  the  bird  had  no  notion  of  being  a  pris- 
oner, and  boldly  emerged  from  his  retreat.  In  an  instant, 
the  three  wrens  darted  upon  the  usurper  and  drove  him 
from  the  bird-house.  Yainly  he  endeavored  to  escape 
the  sharp  thrusts  of  their  bills.  The  wrens  were  as  act- 
ive as  swallows,  and  eluded  every  attempt  on  the  part  of 
the  sparrow  to  attack  them.  The  moment  he  essayed  to 
close  with  one,  the  others  were  upon  him,  and  so  success- 
fully did  they  manage  the  fight  that  they  cut  off  his  final 
effort  to  regain  the  bird-box.  This  the  wrens  had  evi- 
dently foreseen  might  be  attempted,  and  consequently 
they  did  not  at  any  time  leave  the  sparrow's  way  open 
to  a  retreat  in  that  direction.  Nor  were  the  wrens  satis- 
fied with  merely  regaining  possession  of  their  ruined  nest. 
They  pursued  the  sparrow  in  whatever  direction  he  took, 
and  so  wearied  him  with  their  ceaseless  assaults  that  he 
finally  yielded  to  sheer  exhaustion  and  fell  to  the  ground. 


THREE  BEECHES.  197 

At  this  point  I  interfered,  and,  picking  him  up,  found 
upon  examination  that  he  was  so  sorely  wounded  that  he 
soon  died.  As  to  the  wrens :  seeing  that  victory  had 
crowned  their  efforts,  they  united  in  singing  such  a  song 
of  thanksgiving  as  wrens  never  sang  before. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ROSE-BKEASTED    GROSBEAKS. 

A  NEW  bird  in  the  neighborhood  is  a  source  of  joy. 
However  common  it  may  be  elsewhere,  and  however  fa- 
miliar you  may  be  with  it  "  in  books,"  yet  to  see  it  in 
the  trees  and  bushes  about  your  own  home,  a  voluntary 
visitor  at  that,  is  to  gaze  on  a  novelty,  and  you  do  so 
with  much  the  same  feeling  that  you  would  upon  a  new 
species.  Now,  the  rose-breasted  grosbeak  comes  under 
neither  head.  It  is  not  a  new  species,  nor  is  it  new  to 
the  neighborhood,  for  scores  of  them  pass  by  every  May, 
on  their  northward  journey,  and  come  trooping  back,  in 
October,  with  their  families.  But  in  1882  they  decided 
upon  a  change.  They  came  in  May  as  usual,  and,  delight- 
ful to  tell,  they  remained — not  one,  nor  a  pair,  but  a  great 
many  of  them.  In  years  past,  to  see  one  was  an  unusual 
sight,  and  to  hear  it  sing,  a  rare  pleasure ;  but  in  1882, 
they  not  only  came,  but  seemed  anxious  to  be  seen. 
They  perched  in  the  trees  nearest  the  house,  and  sang 
such  songs  as  never  bird  sang  before.  So,  at  least,  it 
seemed  to  all  of  us.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  song  was  no 
sweeter  than  that  of  the  wood-thrush  ;  but  it  was  widely 
different,  and  was  so  great  an  addition  to  the  orchestra, 
that  we  rated  it,  while  new  to  us,  as  the  first  of  the  series 
of  noble  bird-songs  that  daily  floated  houseward  from  the 
woods  near  by. 

May  21st,  I  spent  a  pleasant  hour  watching  a  gros- 
beak feed  upon  the  seeds  of  the  catalpa.     The  tree  itself 


ROSE-BREASTED   GROSBEAKS.  199 

had,  as  yet,  no  foliage.  From  its  long,  naked  branches, 
only  the  slender  seed-vessels — "  beans,"  we  call  them — 
dangled  in  the  breeze,  and  ever  and  anon  striking  a 
neighboring  branch,  they  rattled  like  a  gourd.  They  had 
remained  closed  during  the  winter,  and  now,  if  ever,  was 
the  time  for  them  to  open  and  let  loose  the  prisoned 
seeds.  Their  time,  however,  did  not  appear  to  have  come ; 
but  to-day  a  grosbeak  "did  the  business"  for  the  one 
tree  near  my  garden  fence.  Never  was  a  bird  more  me- 
thodical in  anything  it  undertook,  and  generally  birds 
"  take  matters  into  consideration  "  before  beginning  any 
work.  Clinging  to  a  convenient  twig,  the  nearest  to  the 
one  that  supported  the  pendent  pod,  the  grosbeak  nipped 
open  the  seed-vessel  near  the  stem,  making  but  a  short  in- 
cision, and  then  drew  forth  a  single  seed.  This  it  trim- 
med, and  let  the  light,  feathery  particles  come  floating 
down  to  me.  The  kernel  the  bird  reserved  to  itself. 
Then  the  next  seed,  and  the  next  were  taken  out,  in  the 
same  quiet,  methodical  way,  until  the  free  end  of  the  pod 
was  reached.  The  last  seed  was  detached  by  separating 
the  two  halves  of  the  pod,  and  these  then  swung  apart, 
and,  slightly  curling  upward,  trembled  in  the  breeze,  as 
they  drooped  from  the  dainty  stem.  Then  the  grosbeak 
passed  to  another  pod  or  "bean,"  nor  did  he  quit  work 
until  every  one  was  rifled  of  its  contents,  split  apart,  and 
left  swinging  in  the  wind.  If  there  were  a  hundred 
"  beans"  at  the  outset,  there  were  now  two  hundred  halves 
of  bean-pods  dangling  in  the  air ;  giving  the  leafless,  spi- 
der-leg branches  a  more  ragged  appearance  than  before. 
During  all  this  time,  not  a  note  from  the  busy  bird,  not 
a  chirp  nor  twitter.  This  was  cunning,  perhaps,  as  it 
might  have  been  afraid  of  attracting  others  who  would 
claim  a  share  of  the  feast. 

It  was  not  until  the  settled  warm  weather  of  June 


200  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

that  the  grosbeaks  began  to  sing  much ;  and  then,  for  an 
hour  before  sunset  was  their  favorite  time.  Their  labors 
of  nest-building  were  by  this  time  completed,  and  they 
were,  I  thought,  rejoicing  at  the  idea  of  vacation,  for  un- 
til the  eggs  were  hatched  there  would  be  little  to  do. 
And  such  bird-music  I  had  seldom  heard  before — never 
since.  The  notes  had  all  the  clearness  of  the  oriole's,  and 
yet  were  without  its  harshness ;  they  were  as  varied  as 
those  of  the  wood-thrush,  yet  not  so  monotonous.  The 
charm  consisted  in  our  not  being  able  to  anticipate  the 
song,  as  it  was  never,  I  think,  quite  the  same,  though  cer- 
tain well-marked  features  were  heard  in  every  utterance, 
and  this  at  once  caused  the  bird  and  its  song  to  be  recog- 
nized. For  weeks  I  tried  to  express  the  song  in  music, 
but  the  evening's  result  was  a  sad  jumble  of  harsh  notes, 
and  before  the  summer  ended  I  gave  up  in  despair.  At 
times,  the  wood-thrush,  chat,  oriole,  and  the  vireos  would 
join  the  grosbeak,  and  then  indeed  it  was  a  service  of  song. 
During  the  subsequent  summer  days,  I  found  these 
birds  usually  in  an  apple-orchard,  busy  as  wood-peckers, 
hunting  for  insects,  even  in  the  hottest  sunshine.  They 
thereby  proved  themselves  to  be  as  useful  as  they  were 
beautiful.  I  found  them,  too,  gathering  potato-bugs,  and 
they  seemed  to  suffer  no  harm,  although  the  vines,  previ- 
ous to  their  visit,  had  been  dusted  with  Paris-green. 
From  this  I  judged,  as  no  grosbeaks  were  killed,  that 
they  ate  only  the  living  insects,  which  of  course  were 
free  of  the  poison.  This  fancy  for  the  potato-pest  ought 
to  secure  entire  safety  to  the  grosbeak,  so  far  as  man 
is  concerned ;  but,  strangely  enough,  it  does  not,  as  I 
found  a  fiend  collecting  them,  one  morning,  "for  the 
milliners."  Unfortunately,  a  defect  in  our  laws  pre- 
vented my  killing  the  collector  without  getting  myself 
into  trouble,  but  the  birds  were  not  again  disturbed. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

EARLY   MOKNING. 

BEFOKE  describing  the  spot,  and  our  object,  a  word 
about  this  time  of  the  day.  The  most  familiar  objects, 
at  this  hour — 4  A.  M. — have  a  somewhat  different  aspect. 
The  country  was  just  sufficiently  the  same  to  make  us 
sure  of  where  we  were.  Fleecy  clouds  enveloped  the  low- 
lands, and  acres  of  pastures  appeared  like  miniature  lakes. 
The  glistening  dew  silvered  the  grass  along  our  path,  and 
brought  out  in  strong  relief  the  geometric  webs  of  the  spi- 
der. Where  a  few  hours  later  there  will  be  a  compara- 
tive silence,  was  now  heard  the  choicest  vocal  efforts  of 
all  our  songsters.  Not  a  bird  within  hearing  but  joined 
in  the  chorus  of  welcome  to  the  rising  sun.  All  nature, 
except  poor  humanity,  rejoiced  that  the  glories  of  a  new- 
born day  were  here. 

My  object  in  thus  taking  an  early  start  was  to  have 
a  day's  shooting  along  the  river-shore  for  "  teeters  and 
the  like,"  as  ITz  Gaunt  called  the  whole  family  of  sand- 
pipers. Plovers  he  knew,  and  spoke  of  them  by  their 
proper  name.  It  so  happened  that  early  in  the  morning 
the  tide  would  be  out,  and  long  stretches  of  the  shore  and 
of  "Long  Bar"  would  be  bare.  Uz  had  promised  me 
some  good  sport,  and  soon  we  were  on  our  way,  he  speak- 
ing of  the  birds  we  were  so  soon  to  find,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  I  in  expectation  of  all  that  he  promised. 

When  the  river  was  reached,  for  we  had  been  passing 


202  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

down  the  Popihacka,  now  Watson's  Creek,  for  some  dis- 
tance, a  mist  hung  over  the  muddy  flats  and  the  water. 
Even  at  a  comparatively  short  distance  objects  were  ob- 
scured, but  still  we  were  not  at  a  loss  as  to  the  proper 
direction  to  take,  for  the  clear  notes  of  several  sandpipers 
could  be  heard,  and  these  guided  us. 

Uz  listened  for  several  minutes  to  these  sounds,  and 
then  quietly  remarked,  "  The  plovers  are  not  with  them, 
to-day,  and  we'll  have  better  luck." 

"  Why  ? "  I  asked ;  for  it  was  a  decided  surprise  to 
me,  to  hear  him  say  this. 

"  Simply  because  those  little  plovers  are  a  great  deal 
quicker  witted  than  '  teeters '  of  any  sort,  big  or  little. 
I'll  tell  you  more  about  them,  after  a  bit." 

Until  the  fog  lifted,  of  course  nothing  could  be  done ; 
but  we  had  not  long  to  wait,  and  soon  we  were  able  to 
mark  the  movements  of  troops  of  sandpipers  running 
hither  and  thither  up  and  down  the  sand.  We  took  up 
our  places,  at  points  considerably  apart,  and  approached 
each  other,  keeping  a  troop  of  teeters  between  us.  When 
within  twenty  yards,  the  birds  would  take  wing,  and  gen- 
erally afford  a  shot  to  one  or  the  other  of  us,  before  they 
had  flown  over  the  water  or  out  of  reach.  In  this  way 
we  bagged  a  score  in  a  little  while,  but  they  soon  became 
wild,  and  the  shooting  grew  quite  monotonous.  In  the 
course  of  two  hours  we  were  ready  to  quit,  and  before 
the  day  became  really  oppressive  we  were  homeward 
bound.  The  birds  that  we  had  shot  were  the  least  sand- 
piper, the  spotted,  several  "  solitaries,"  and  two  of  that 
curious  form  known  as  the  "  sanderling." 

As  we  were  sculling  homeward,  I  reminded  Uz  of 
his  promise  concerning  the  plovers,  and  as  we  moved 
slowly  up  the  creek  he  told  me  the  following  as  one  of 
his  experiences : 


EARLY  MORNING.  203 

"  Some  years  ago,  one  August,  there  was  a  great  flight 
of  '  yellow-legs  '  and  <  tell-tales,'  as  you  call  'em,  along  the 
river.  I've  never,  altogether,  seen  so  many  since.  For  a 
week  or  so,  Long  Bar,  at  low  tide,  would  be  just  black 
with  'em.  No  gunners  came  'round  just  then,  and  I  had 
the  thing  all  to  myself  ;  and  it  paid  big.  Well,  early  one 
morning,  about  the  end  of  the  time,  I  was  settling  myself 
in  a  sort  of  ambush  I  had,  made  of  cedar-boughs  tucked 
against  a  buttonwood  log,  lyin'  on  the  bar,  and  I  thought 
I  heard  the  yellow-legs  coming  up  the  river ;  but  instead 
it  was  a  whole  swad  of.  little  plovers.  They  settled  down, 
black,  right  in  front  of  me,  and  then  scooted  'round, 
until  they  made  me  out.  One  or  two  of  'em  gave  a  wild 
chirp,  and  away  the  whole  of  'em  went.  I  was  glad  they 
were  gone,  and  takin'  comfort  in  my  luck,  when  the 
pesky  things  came  back,  but  kept  on  the  river  side  of  my 
screen.  They  trotted  up  and  down  as  unconcerned  as  a 
fly  on  your  nose,  and  I  paid  no  attention  to  them  for 
a  while,  as  I  was  waiting  for  bigger  game.  After  a  bit 
the  big  teeters  I  was  after  came  within  hearin',  and  I  was 
all  eyes  for  a  lot  of  'em  to  settle  down  within  range ;  but 
what  do  you  think?  those  pesky  plovers  set  up  a  sort  of 
a  chatter  when  the  big  teeters  came,  and  just  made  'em 
keep  away  from  anywhere  near  where  I  was.  Talk  about 
birds  talking !  Why,  them  plover  told  the  big  teeters 
there  was  danger  lurkin'  behind  the  log  as  plain  as  you 
or  I  could.  The  birds'  actions  showed  that.  They  say 
'  actions  speak  louder  than  words,'  and  so  the  birds'  doings 
told  me  plain  enough  that  their  twittering,  when  tho 
teeters  came  by,  was  understood  all  'round,  and  the  birds 
acted  accordingly.  If  you're  goin'  to  boil  it  down  to  a 
lot  of  hard-twisted  words,  perhaps  you  can  make  it  out 
that  it  was  something  different  from  our  ways  of  talkin' 
and  takin'  in  the  situation ;  but  to  me  it  was  one  and  the 


204  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

same,  and  I  guess  that  birds'  talk  and  ours  differs  just  as 
we  differ  in  our  make-up,  and  not  in  the  natur5  of  it.  I've 
seen  enough  of  birds  in  my  time  to  make  me  believe  in 
their  talking,  anyhow.  Well,  I  got  kind  o'  tired  lyin' 
behind  that  log  with  nothing  to  do,  and  the  tide  was 
comin'  in,  and  I  felt  like  blazin'  away  at  the  plovers  for 
spoilin'  my  day.  If  I  did,  I  knew  the  others  would  be 
off,  and  thought  perhaps  they  would  come  back  and  the 
plovers  would  stay.  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  shot  laid  over 
five  or  six  plover  and  wing-tipped  a  teeter,  and  that  was 
all  the  birds  I  got  that  morning.  I  whistled  till  my 
cheeks  hurt,  but  it  was  no  use ;  them  plovers  had  cooked 
my  goose  for  me,  and  I've  always  found  'em  a  cunmV 
set  ever  since.  Well,  it  was  only  a  day  or  two  after,  I 
went  again  to  Long  Bar  to  see  if  any  birds  were  about, 
but  there  wasn't.  I  was  sittin'  on  the  button  wood  when 
I  heard  a  t  peet-weet '  or  two,  and  ducked  down,  not  quite 
sure  what  it  was.  Betimes  I  was  behind  the  log,  four  of 
these  little  plover  was  on  the  other  side,  and  as  busy 
feedin'  or  lookin'  for  food  as  they  could  be.  Now,  the 
tides  had  washed  a  little  hollow  in  front  of  the  log, 
and  I'd  seen  in  it  a  dozen  little  minnies  swimmin'  'round 
lively  and  tryin'  to  get  out.  You  see  the  tide  went  out 
too  fast  for  'em,  and  they  were  caught.  "Well,  what 
completely  took  me  aback,  was  the  way  these  plovers 
acted.  They  wanted  the  minnies,  and  yet  didn't  quite 
know  how  to  get  'em.  They  chased  'round  a  bit,  but 
didn't  seem  to  catch  any,  when,  do  you  believe  it,  them 
four  plovers  just  walked  in,  all  abreast,  and  undertook  to 
corner  the  little  fish.  Hang  me,  if  they  didn't,  though. 
You've  seen  a  flock  of  turkeys  walk  abreast  across  a  field, 
catch  in'  grasshoppers  ?  Well,  these  little  plover  just  walked 
through  that  water  as  even  along  as  turkeys,  only  they 
didn't  keep  their  heads  goin'  all  the  time  like  the  turkeys. 


EARLY  MORNING.  205 

They  just  went  on  as  a  matter  of  course,  until  they  had 
the  minnies  cornered,  or  thought  they  had  'em.  It  was 
a  mighty  funny  sight,  I  tell  you,  boy,  and  one  I  only  saw 
that  once." 

"  If  turkeys  should  do  this,  why  shouldn't  plovers  do 
the  same  ? "  I  asked,  forgetting  that  he  disliked  interrup- 
tions. 

"  All  I  know  is,  it  doesn't  seem  strange  in  the  turkeys, 
and  same  way  I've  seen  rock-fish  move  like  soldiers  on  a 
school  of  minnies;  but  for  the  plovers  to  do  the  like 
seemed  all  out  of  place,  somehow,  just  as  anything  is  apt 
to  when  it  is  unexpected  like.  "Well,  to  go  on  with  my 
story  where  I  left  off :  So  far  as  I  could  tell,  the  fish  had 
got  ahead  of  the  plovers  by  buryin'  themselves  in  the 
sand.  I  was  so  took  up  with  the  way  things  turned  out, 
that  I  raised  up,  forgettin'  about  the  plovers,  and  went 
to  look  for  them  fish ;  the  plovers  put  off,  and  I  looked 
all  'round.  There  was  no  minnies  in  the  water,  certain, 
and  so  I  dug  down  a  bit,  and,  sure  enough,  the  cunnin' 
things  had  gone  down  as  much  as  an  inch  in  the  wet 
sand." 

By  this  time  we  were  at  the  landing,  and  Uz's  narra- 
tive came  to  an  abrupt  conclusion,  for  the  time  being,  and 
we  were  too  busy  fixing  the  boat  and  other  matters  to  talk 
much.  On  our  return  towards  home,  however,  over  the 
dewy  path  of  some  hours  ago,  but  now  hot  and  dusty,  I 
started  the  conversation  by  remarking  that  the  common 
mud-minnow  of  our  meadow-ditches  buries  itself  in  the 
mud  to  escape  danger. 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Uz,  i(  and  that  reminds  me  that 
I've  something  more  to  say  about  those  plovers  and  min- 
nies. Perhaps  you've  never  watched  little  plovers  very 
closely,  and  so  don't  know  'em  as  well  as  I  do.  Well, 
they  have  the  habit  of  huntin'  minnies  that  are  left  in 


206  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

puddles  at  low  tide,  as  I've  told  you,  and  here  let  me  tell 
you  something  more  about  this.  You  know  wherever 
there  is  a  good-sized  cobble-stone  on  the  sand,  the  out- 
goin'  tide  washes  a  little  hollow  on  the  lower  side  of  the 
stone,  and  in  this  the  little  minnies  take  refuge  when  the 
water  's  fallin'.  The  plovers  know  this  just  as  well  as  I 
do,  and  go  spookin'  'round ;  but  seein'  'em,  the  minnies 
get  clear  under  the  stone  out  o'  sight.  How  the  plovers 
smell  'em  out,  I  don't  know,  but  they'll  just  splash  and 
dance  'round,  and  somehow  seem  to  scare  'em  out,  and 
then  they  gobble  the  littlest  of  'em  up.  When  they  are 
too  big,  as  is  mostly  the  case,  they  only  worry  at  'em,  for 
it  is  only  the  little  wee  bits  of  minnies  they  can  make  out 
to  swallow.  There's  another  kind  of  minnie,  or  little  fish 
o'  some  sort,  they  don't  disturb,  I  know,  and  sometimes 
a  whole  regiment  of  'em  will  be  on  the  flats  at  low  tide. 
They  are  like  little  perch  in  looks,  and  go  off  with  a  skip 
and  a  jerk,  instead  of  swimmin'." 

"  You  mean  what  are  known  as  ( darters,'  I  guess. 
Little  fish  with  big  spiny  fins,  that  lie  at  the  bottom  of 
the  river  and  the  creek,  where  it  is  sandy,"  I  suggested 
to  Uz. 

"  That  covers  the  whole  ground,  boy,"  he  replied,  and 
continued,  "  and  they  have  been  something  of  a  puzzle  to 
me.  Last  spring,  when  I  was  huntin'  for  my  sheath- 
knife  at  low  tide  off  Long  Bar,  I  was  lookin'  at  the  bottom 
as  I  floated  along,  hopin'  to  see  my  knife.  About  half- 
way down  the  bar,  I  see  the  carcass  of  a  musk-rat  some- 
body had  skinned,  lyin'  on  the  bottom,  and  just  about  a 
thousand  of  these  little  'skip-jacks,'  as  I  call  'em,  were 
feastin'  on  the  rat.  I  halted  a  minute,  and  watched  'em. 
They  would  kind  o'  haul  off,  and  then  give  a  dart  at  the 
rat's  carcass,  and  catchin'  a  bit  in  their  jaws,  take  it  away 
with  'em  and  gobble  it  up  when  they'd  got  fairly  settled 


EARLY  MORNING.  207 

on  the  sand.  Then  up  and  at  it  they  would  go  again. 
I  marked  the  spot,  and  next  day  was  along  there  again. 
The  fish  had  gone,  but  they  had  about  made  a  clean 
skeleton  of  the  carcass.  I  never  before  saw  so  many  of 
'em  together." 

"  Why  do  you  think  plovers  don't  eat  these  darters 
as  well  as  the  common  minnows  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Simply  because,  when  I've  been  ambushed  on  the 
flats  lookin'  for  teeters,  I've  seen  lots  of  these  little  skip- 
jacks caught  in  the  puddles.  Could  see  'em  skippin'  out 
of  the  water,  and  the  little  plovers  would  run  right 
among  'em  and  not  notice  'em.  Things  like  that,  happen- 
ing right  under  my  nose,  I  can't  help  but  notice.  Some- 
times the  plovers  would  chase  little  fish ;  sometimes  they 
wouldn't ;  and  I  found  the  skip-jacks  they  let  alone  and 
the  littlemost  minnows  they  gobbled  up." 

"  A  good  many  people  might  see  all  this  and  never 
know  what  it  meant,"  I  replied,  and  added,  "I've  seen 
plovers  often,  and  shot  dozens  of  'em,  but  this  is  all  news 
to  me." 

"  That's  just  accordin'  to  what  I've  told  you  more  than 
once.  If  you  waited  until  you  were  as  old  as  I  am  before 
you  printed  anything  about  birds,  you  would  then  likely 
tell  a  good  many  things  nobody  would  believe — like 
enough  be  set  down  as  crazy.  I've  never  told  you  half 
I've  seen  in  my  days,  and  do  not  mean  to.  You  wouldn't 
believe  some  things." 

"  Indeed  I  will,"  I  replied  quickly  ;  "  I'd  rather  have 
your  opinion  and  knowledge  than  that  of  any  one  I 
know." 

"  All  very  well  to  say,  boy,  but  you'd  feel  a  little 
doubtful  about  it  if  I  gave  you  a  full  account  of  my 
years  of  lookin'  at  things  in  natur' ;  anyhow,  I  won't 
do  it." 


208  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

"  I  hope  you  will  change  your  mind,"  I  remarked, 
knowing  coaxing  was  useless ;  "  I  want,  anyhow,  to  hear 
you  again  about  the  snakes  in  the  June  freshet.  Re- 
member, I  didn't  see  any  of  any  account." 

"Perhaps  I  will,  some  day,"  Uz  replied,  "but  not 
now." 

Here  we  reached  the  cross-roads  and  parted  for  the 
day. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A   WALK   IN  WINTER. 

THE  whole  range  of  field,  forest,  and  meadow,  with 
their  scattered  patches  of  tangled  thicket  and  lace-work 
of  worm-fences,  on  which  I  looked  from  my  study-win- 
dow, had  during  a  recent  January  morning  a  marvelously 
altered  appearance.  That  the  familiar  land-marks  were 
all  there  I  had  no  reason  to  doubt,  but  ready  recognition  of 
them  was,  after  all,  not  so  easy,  when  a  deep,  undrifted 
snow  covered  everything. 

"What  though  an  open  fire-place  and  hickory  logs  were 
at  my  disposal  ?  These  are  incomparable  after  sundown  ; 
but  it  argued  no  want  of  love  for  my  grandmother's  and- 
irons, if  so  early  in  the  day  I  did  not  succumb  to  their 
charms.  Let  me  first  weary  myself  with  a  tramp  over  the 
snow,  which  will  not  last  but  a  day  or  two,  it  may  be, 
and  gather  material  for  a  dream  by  the  blazing  hickory 
logs  when  it  is  gone,  for  the  wood  will  keep. 

Not  a  sight  nor  a  sound  of  bird  for  the  first  half  mile  ; 
and  as  it  was  a  matter  of  wading  rather  than  walking, 
much  of  the  time,  I  began  to  feel  discouraged  and  thought 
of  the  andirons.  But  when  fairly  in  the  open  fields,  the 
snow-crust  was  firmer,  and  a  change  came  over  the  spirit 
of  my  day-dream.  I  heard  a  bird  chirp,  and  at  once  felt 
my  strength  renewed.  Nor  does  this  indicate  mania  on 
the  subject  of  birds.  To  be  sure,  I  could  have  heard 
sparrows  chirp,  to  my  heart's  content,  by  merely  raising 


210  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

my  study-window ;  but  these  were  English  sparrows,  and 
de  gustibus  non  est  disputandum.  I  would  rather  raise 
Cain  with  the  misguided  people  who  brought  these  tru- 
culent little  wretches  into  the  country. 

The  bird-note  that  I  had  heard  was  nothing  but  a 
faint  chirp,  but  then  it  did  not  come  from  a  sparrow's 
throat,  but  from  a  prettier  one  and  a  wild  one,  whose 
owner  is  never  here  in  summer.  Here,  then,  were  all 
things  needful  to  play  "up  North,"  as  the  children  say  : 
snow,  ice,  cold  weather,  arctic  birds;  and  so  the  fun 
began.  I  heard  a  faint  chirp,  and  then  an  answering  one  ; 
then  a  clear,  ringing  twitter  filled  the  crisp  air,  and  a 
great  company  of  horned  larks  came  flying  by  and  settled 
daintily  on  the  broad  expanse  of  snow  before  me.  So  I 
had  not,  after  all,  taken  a  walk  for  nothing. 

Of  all  possible  sights  of  a  snowy  winter,  whether  in 
the  open  fields  or  the  hoary  forests,  that  of  a  company  of 
tripping,  chirping,  merry  horned  larks  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful. Nor  do  I  wonder  that  they  like  so  well  to  be  abroad 
at  such  a  time.  Can  sunshine  be  more  magnificent  than 
when  it  gilds  acres  of  untrodden  snow  ?  The  larks,  at 
such  a  time,  need  little  shelter  from  pursuing  foes.  The 
merest  ripple  in  the  surface  grants  them  all  they  need, 
and  sharp  eyes  are  required  to  follow  their  movements. 
This  they  seem  to  know ;  at  all  events,  they  are  happy. 
Yet  why  do  they  visit  us  only  at  such  times  ?  Do  they 
belong  to  one  of  the  u  old  families  "  among  birds,  and  did 
they  come  in  with  the  glaciers,  as  some  of  our  friends 
claim  to  have  done  "  with  the  Conqueror  "  ?  If  so,  their 
love  of  arctic  conditions  became  so  strongly  rooted  that 
no  subsequent  experiences  could  or  have  changed  it ;  and 
in  these  later  days,  when  the  Eskimo  and  the  glacier 
have  alike  retreated  toward  the  arctic  circle,  the  larks, 
too,  have  followed  in  their  wake,  and  only  return  to  the 


A    WALK  IN  WINTER.  211 

homes  of  their  remote  ancestors  when  winter  kindly  re- 
stores it  to  its  old-time  condition. 

To  return  to  these  larks  before  me  :  there  were  fully 
a  hundred  of  them,  and  they  ran  with  wonderful  speed 
over  the  snow,  sometimes  carrying  their  heads  well  up, 
and  then  thrusting  them  eye-deep  into  the  snow.  I  saw 
all  about  me  the  oblique  holes  they  had  thus  made,  and  I 
judged  that  it  must  have  been  done  in  picking  up  grass- 
seeds  that  the  winds  had  scattered,  and  in  catching  a 
small  red  spider  that  w^as  abundant  near  the  top  of  the 
snow,  for  both  of  which  they  were  evidently  in  search. 
There  was  also  some  insect-life  abroad — minute  black 
flies,  that  eluded  my  efforts  at  capture,  but  which  may 
have  been  caught  up  by  the  quick-motioned  larks. 

Beyond  me,  the  half -hidden  worm-fence  had  protected 
in  its  corners  a  long  hedge  of  tall  weeds,  and  these  I 
found  still  retained  a  large  portion  of  their  seeds  in  the 
seed-vessels.  These  weeds  the  larks  did  not  approach. 
Indeed,  they  are  not  adapted  to  climbing  at  all,  and  any 
food  to  be  accessible  to  them  must  be  upon  the  ground. 

Again,  during  the  whole  time  that  these  larks  re- 
mained in  view,  I  failed  to  detect  any  leader  among  them. 
I  thought  that,  in  every  instance  of  their  taking  flight, 
I  heard  a  clear,  bell-like  chirp,  but  there  was  nothing  to 
indicate  that  this  alarm  came  from  one  and  the  same  bird. 
However  this  may  be,  no  sooner  is  the  note  heard 
than  every  bird  rose  instantly,  and,  although  much  scat- 
tered at  the  time,  they  closed  their  ranks  promptly,  and 
moved  with  a  wavy  motion,  almost  as  a  single  object.  I 
likened  it  to  a  sheet  of  paper  carried  gently  along  by  the 
wind.  With  the  same  unity  of  purpose  they  alighted ; 
no  one  lark  touched  the  snow  a  second  in  advance  of  its 
fellows.  But  no  sooner  were  they  again  on  foot  than 
they  were  wholly  indifferent  to  each  other,  and  went 


212  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

seed-gathering  and  spider-hunting,  each  one  strictly  on 
his  own  account. 

It  seemed  to  me,  at  the  time,  highly  improbable  that 
they  could  follow  this  course  for  any  length  of  time 
without  drawbacks,  and  I  asked  myself  if  they  were 
never  molested  when  wandering  over  snow-clad  fields. 
Happily  for  my  curiosity,  I  was  soon  enlightened.  A 
shadow  floated  quickly  over  the  snow  before  me,  a  faint, 
cat-like  scream  came  from  overhead,  and  as  I  turned  I 
saw  between  me  and  the  sun  a  restless,  impetuous  spar- 
row-hawk hurrying  by.  It  too  had  seen  these  merry 
larks  from  afar,  or,  descrying  me,  had  guessed  that  I  was 
bird-hunting,  and  so  came  to  see.  At  all  events,  on  came 
the  hawk,  and  perched  upon  a  projecting  stake  of  the 
worm-fence  near  by.  From  this  "  coign  of  vantage  "  it 
sailed  over  the  spot  where  the  larks  were,  but  no  sooner 
was  it  directly  above  them  than  they  moved  en  masse  a 
few  yards,  and,  settling  down,  they  scattered  again.  I 
could  scarcely  follow  their  movements,  but  it  was  evident 
that  they  were  determined  not  to  give  the  hawk  an  oppor- 
tunity to  single  out  any  one  of  their  number.  In  order 
to  accomplish  this,  they  in  one  instance  burrowed  into 
the  snow  until  quite  concealed.  The  hawk,  darting  like 
lightning  toward  them,  struck  the  low  snow-bank,  and, 
being  disappointed,  he  rose  with  a  shrill  cry  of  anger  and 
disgust.  As  he  was  flying  in  one  direction,  the  larks  rose 
up  as  one  body,  and  moved  by  me  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection at  a  rate  of  speed  never  attained  by  any  spar- 
row-hawk. I  was  fairly  thrilled  with  the  suddenness  and 
sagacity  of  the  movement,  which  was  all  over  before  I 
fairly  realized  what  had  happened.  I  saw  no  more  of 
the  larks  that  day,  but  enjoyed  the  chagrin  of  the  hawk, 
which  vainly  endeavored  to  determine  their  whereabouts. 
The  baffled  bird  seemed  to  hold  me  responsible  for  their 


A    WALK  IN  WINTER.  213 

escape,  and  scolded  me  in  no  measured  terms.  Either 
knowing  that  I  was  without  a  gun,  or  being  perfectly  in- 
different to  the  fact,  he  came  flitting  near  me,  and  darted 
menacingly  toward  me  as  I  stood  my  ground.  I  have 
seen  brave  birds  and  impudent  ones,  but  none  that  ex- 
ceeded this  baffled  hawk  in  both  these  qualities.  He 
evidently  held  me  responsible  for  all  that  had  happened ; 
at  least  I  thought  so,  as  I  slowly  wended  my  way  home- 
ward. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

FEEDING   HABITS   OF    KINGFISHERS. 

IN  the  volume  by  Mr.  Darwin  on  the  "  Expression  of 
the  Emotions,"  it  is  stated,  on  page  48,  that  "  kingfishers, 
when  they  catch  a  fish,  always  beat  it  until  it  is  killed." 
When  I  read  this  statement,  I  felt  quite  sure  that  it  did 
not  apply  to  our  common  belted  kingfisher ;  and,  in  a 
brief  communication  to  "Nature"  (vol.  vii,  p.  362),  I 
took  occasion  to  say  that  I  had  never  seen  a  kingfisher 
take  its  food  otherwise  than  by  swallowing  it  whole,  and 
that  while  he  was  yet  upon  the  wing.  The  captured  fish 
having  been  swallowed,  or,  at  least,  having  disappeared, 
the  kingfisher  will  then  alight  upon  the  branch  of  a  tree, 
and,  stretching  out  its  neck,  go  through  a  gulping  motion, 
as  if  the  fish  had  not  been  entirely  swallowed,  but  had 
been  retained  in  the  oesophagus.  Up  to  the  time  when 
I  made  this  note  (January,  1873),  I  certainly  had  never 
once  seen  a  fish  taken  from  the  water  and  killed  before 
being  devoured,  and  I  was  under  the  impression  that,  in 
feeding,  the  kingfisher,  after  darting  into  the  water  and 
securing  a  small  minnow,  emerged  from  the  stream, 
uttering  its  shrill,  harsh,  chattering  cry,  as  if  rejoicing 
over  the  delicate  morsel  it  had  captured,  and  not  scolding 
at  its  ill-luck,  as  has  been  thought.  That  this  is  so  is 
evident,  because  I  have  shot  these  birds  as  they  rose  from 
the  water,  and  on  dissection  have  sometimes  found  in 
their  stomachs  or  oesophagus  an  entire  fish  in  which  life 


FEEDING  HABITS  OF  KINGFISHERS.          215 

was  not  quite  extinct.  Indeed,  I  can  not  see  how  the 
kingfisher  could  utter  a  prolonged  scream  with  a  fish 
struggling  in  its  beak.  When  the  captured  fish,  either 
from  its  size  or  from  any  other  cause,  is  retained  in  the 
oesophagus  until  the  bird  alights,  the  movements  of  the 
kingfisher  in  swallowing  it  are  very  like  those  of  a  pigeon 
feeding  its  young.  The  neck  shortens  and  swells,  the 
feathers  are  ruffled,  and  the  wings  slightly  open  and  shut 
two  or  three  times. 

A  further  examination,  however,  showed  me  that  I 
was  wofully  mistaken  in  my  original  statement.  Not 
having  had  my  attention  called  to  the  subject  particularly, 
my  casual  observations  had  led  me  to  suppose  that  I 
knew  the  kingfisher  perfectly,  when,  in  fact,  my  ac- 
quaintance with  the  bird  was  very  slight.  This  dawned 
upon  me  when  I  found  the  truth  of  my  assertions  in 
"  Nature "  doubted  by  many ;  and  also,  when  I  was  as- 
sured by  careful  observers  that  Mr.  Darwin's  remark  did 
apply  to  our  species  of  kingfisher.  Then  I  determined 
to  satisfy  myself,  and  I  began  at  once  to  study  very  care- 
fully the  habits  of  the  bird  in  question.  During  1873 
and  1874  I  took  every  opportunity  possible  of  familiar- 
izing myself  with  the  daily  routine  of  its  life,  with  the 
following  result :  In  1873  the  whole  season — from  April 
to  November — was  spent  upon  the  water  studying  our 
smaller  fresh-water  fishes,  and  my  opportunities  were 
unusually  good  for  observing  the  movements  of  a  pair 
of  these  birds.  My  daily  record  of  observations  shows 
these  kingfishers  feeding,  from  one  to  four  times  a  day, 
for  eighty-three  days;  or,  in  other  words,  during  this 
period  I  saw  them  dive  for  fishes  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
six  times,  and  either  every  plunge  was  unsuccessful  or 
the  birds  swallowed,  before  alighting,  every  fish  they  had 
taken;  making,  of  course,  due  allowance  for  their  occa- 


216  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

sional  failures  to  seize  their  prey.  This  seemed  to  con- 
firm my  original  impression,  but,  as  a  late  ornithologist 
of  note  has  said,  "  The  horizon  of  one  man  is  at  best 
very  limited,  and  many  ornithological  facts  occur  that  are 
not  dreamed  of  in  his  philosophy."  I  repeated  my  observa- 
tions through  the  spring  and  summer  of  the  ensuing  year. 
My  opportunities  were  equally  good,  and,  much  to  my 
satisfaction,  I  have  a  quite  different  story  to  relate.  It 
is  proper,  however,  to  state  that  during  the  summer  of 
1873  my  observations  were  made  altogether  in  a  very 
limited  locality — the  summit  level  of  a  canal — and  were 
confined  to  one  pair  of  birds.  During  the  subsequent 
year,  I  watched  the  kingfishers  in  several  different  locali- 
ties, and  my  note-books  make  mention  of  these  birds 
from  two  to  six  times  per  day,  for  one  hundred  and  one 
days,  or  a  total  of  about  four  hundred  observations.  Of 
this  series  I  have  to  say  that  in  eighty-eight  instances  the 
kingfisher  captured  and,  alighting,  deliberately  beat  the 
fish  against  the  limb  of  the  tree,  and  afterward  swallowed 
it.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  this  habit  is  by  no  means 
constant,  as  less  than  one  fourth  of  the  fish  taken  were 
killed  before  being  swallowed ;  though,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  is  evident  that  I  was  wide  of  the  mark  in  stating  that 
the  fish  is  always  swallowed  without  being  first  killed. 

There  is,  of  course,  some  cause  for  this  difference  in 
the  habits  of  these  birds,  and  I  believe  it  may  be  ex- 
plained in  this  way :  as  already  stated,  my  observations 
during  1873  were  confined  to  a  single  pair  of  these  birds, 
in  one  locality ;  and  the  obvious  reason  why  these  par- 
ticular kingfishers  always  swallowed  their  prey  as  soon  as 
caught  was  because  they  fed  exclusively  on  the  very  small 
but  extraordinarily  numerous  cyprinoids  frequenting  this 
artificial  sheet  of  water.  I  know,  of  my  own  fishing  ex- 
perience (pursued  after  a  different  manner,  however), 


FEEDING  HABITS  OF  KINGFISHERS.          217 

that  millions  of  cjprinoids  or  minnows  were  found  there, 
as  though  they  soitght  in  this  canal  an  asylum  from  the* 
attacks  of  carnivorous  fishes,  which  are  quite  rare,  as 
compared  with  the  number  in  the  river  near  by. 

During  the  season  of  1874  I  took  notes  on  such  king- 
fishers as  were  seen  about  two  creeks,  a  mill-pond,  and 
the  Delaware  River.  In  each  of  these  localities  large 
fishes  of  many  kinds  are  more  or  less  abundant,  and  the 
percentage  of  small  cyprinoids — from  two  to  four  inches 
long — being  much  smaller  than  in  the  canal,  it  would 
evidently  be  irksome  to  so  voracious  a  bird  as  the  king- 
fisher to  wait  until  fish  of  the  proper  size  for  swallowing 
without  preliminary  butchering  should  come  within  reach. 
It  therefore,  in  some  measure,  seems  to  depend  upon  the 
size  of  the  captured  fish  whether  or  not  it  is  killed  by  the 
kingfisher  before  it  is  swallowed. 

Both  habits  having  been  found  to  be  true  of  this  bird, 
it  is  desirable  to  know  why  the  habit  of  killing  the  fish 
before  eating  it  should  be  the  invariable  practice  of  this 
bird  in  some  localities,  as  stated.  I  can  only  suggest 
that  this  may  depend  upon  the  anatomical  characteristics 
of  the  fishes  caught.  When  an  abundance  of  cyprinoids, 
which  are  fishes  with  soft-rayed  fins,  are  to  be  obtained, 
then  little  or  no  preparation  is  necessary  to  make  them 
fit  for  food ;  but  if  young  perch  with  their  spiny  fins, 
or  tough,  hard-scaled  fish  of  any  family,  have  to  be  de- 
pended upon,  then  the  kingfisher  is  forced  to  prepare  the 
food  before  it  can  be  safely  swallowed. 


10 


CHAPTER   XXY. 

THE   SAW-WHET   AND   OTHER   OWLS. 

DOUBTLESS  the  little  saw-whet  owl  can  withstand  any 
degree  of  cold — belonging  to  a  circumpolar  family,  he 
ought — but,  nevertheless,  he  is  always  to  be  found  on  the 
sunny  side  of  a  tree,  and  along  hill-sides  with  a  southern 
exposure.  If  he  comes  close  to  the  house,  he  will  find  a 
cozy  corner  where  the  sunshine  strikes  in  full  force,  and 
where  never  a  breath  of  the  north  wind  can  enter. 
Twice  I  have  found  them  on  the  south  side  of  the  barn, 
where  they  had  arranged  roomy  nests,  and  had  occupied 
them  for  weeks.  Not  a  single  nest,  large  enough  for 
three,  but  each  for  itself  had  a  protected  perch,  whereon 
it  sat  and  meditated  by  day,  and  from  which  in  the  even- 
ing it  sallied  forth  in  search  of  food,  returning,  however, 
long  before  dark.  None  of  our  birds,  either  resident 
species  or  winter  visitors,  are  partial  to  north  winds. 
Even  horned  larks  and  snow-buntings  will  keep  out  of 
the  wind  and  stay  on  the  leeward  slopes  of  snow-clad 
fields ;  and  when  our  moisture-laden  northeast  wind  pre- 
vails, then  birds  of  all  kinds,  even  to  the  crows,  seek 
shelter ;  and  miles  of  walking  will  not  give  you,  perhaps, 
a  glimpse  of  a  single  stray  feather. 

To  return  to  the  saw-whet.  Generally  in  a  dense 
cedar — one  surrounded  by  other  trees,  and  not  standing 
alone — and  also  in  a  tangled  mass  of  green-brier  or  grape- 
vine that  has  lodged  in  the  upper  branches  of  some  tall 


THE  SAW-WHET  AND   OTHER   OWLS.         219 

tree,  you  will  likely  find  the  resting-place  of  this,  the 
smallest  of  our  owls.  A  remnant  of  a  leaf-nest,  made  by 
the  gray  squirrels  as  a  winter  home,  is  likewise  a  favorite 
roost,  and  from  it  the  watchful  little  owlet  scans  the  im- 
mediate neighborhood,  and  knows  just  where  he  is  likely 
to  find  a  shrew,  sparrow,  field-mouse,  or  Hesperomys.  It 
is  not  his  habit,  ordinarily,  to  forage  by  day,  but  he  is 
not  oblivious  to  the  diurnal  movements  of  his  neighbors, 
nevertheless.  If  occasion  requires,  saw-whet  will  sally 
out  in  broad  daylight,  moving  with  a  noiseless,  bat-like 
flight,  but  with  all  the  confidence  of  a  sparrow-hawk.  It 
is  correct,  in  a  degree,  to  consider  this  owl  nocturnal  in 
its  habits,  but  not  so  strictly  so  that  his  presence  by  day 
should  excite  any  surprise  on  the  part  of  the  beholder. 

In  speaking  of  the  allied  Tengmalm's  owl  and  of  this 
species,  Dr.  Coues  remarks  that  "  they  are  among  the 
most  perfectly  nocturnal  birds  of  the  family."  *  If  by 
"  nocturnal "  is  meant  that  these  birds  are  more  active  as 
the  absence  of  light  becomes  more  marked;  that  their 
activity  increases  with  departing  daylight,  then  it  is  not 
true  of  them.  To  say  that  owls  are  crepuscular,  partial 
to  cloudy  days,  and  delight  in  clear  moonlight  nights,  is 
true,  just  as  it  is  of  the  herons,  night-hawks,  whippoorwill, 
and  chimney-swifts ;  and,  among  mammals,  of  the  bats. 
I  am  disposed,  furthermore,  to  believe  that  their  vision 
is  not  as  good  as  that  of  the  night-heron  or  of  a  bat  on, 
comparatively  speaking,  dark  nights.  I  find  in  our  up- 
land woods,  if  the  day  is  cloudy,  that  the  long-eared  owl 
moves  about  quite  as  freely  as  any  of  our  hawks ;  and 
in  the  meadows,  especially  during  September,  when  the 
reed-birds  congregate  in  the  marshes,  the  short-eared  or 
marsh-owl  is  about  by  day,  and  skims  quietly  over  the 

*  "  Birds  of  Northwest."    Page  3H.    Washington,  1874  (Government 
Printing-Office.) 


220  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

reeds  and  tall  grasses  in  search  of  wounded  birds  ;  know- 
ing that  many  such  are  to  be  found  by  following  in  the 
wake  of  gunners,  who  murderously  discharge  their  guns 
at  the  dense  flocks  of  reed-birds,  and  wounding  a  dozen 
often  where  one  is  killed.  That  the  little  red  owl  is 
quite  himself  while  the  sun  shines,  is  known  to  every 
country  lad.  That  all  these  owls  love  the  twilight,  no 
one  can  doubt ;  but  that  their  activity  increases  with  the 
growing  darkness,  is  not  true  of  any  of  the  nine  species 
of  owls  that  I  have  found  in  this  vicinity. 

Although  I  have  found  these  saw-whet  owls  at  all 
seasons,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  have  ever  heard  their 
voices.  The  "  saw-mill "  note,  of  which  Audubon  speaks, 
I  have  never  heard  to  recognize  it ;  nor  the  bell-like  note 
mentioned  by  other  writers.  When  I  have  captured 
them  alive,  they  made  the  usual  clicking  noise  with  the 
beak,  and  faintly  murmured,  as  nearly  as  I  can  express 
it ;  but  beyond  this  I  have  heard  no  utterance. 

A  neighbor,  on  the  accuracy  of  whose  observations  I 
can  rely,  has  had  better  luck  in  this  respect,  and  describes 
to  me  the  note  of  this  owl  as  expressed  fairly  well  by 
the  syllables  tlee-klee,  tlee-Jdee,  twice  or  thrice  repeated. 
Then  an  intermission  of  a  minute  or  more,  and  the  note 
or  notes  are  repeated.  He  further  says  he  has  heard  it 
during  dull,  cloudy  days  in  summer,  and  early  in  the 
evening,  but  at  no  other  time  of  the  year.  It  is  not,  of 
course,  to  be  inferred  from  this  that  the  saw-whet  does 
not  utter  its  peculiar  cry  in  autumn  and  winter,  or  late  at 
night.  Being  nocturnal  in  its  habits  to  the  extent  that 
are  all  owls,  of  course  it  must  do  so  ;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  additional  evidence  that  this  species  is  not  as 
strictly  nocturnal  as  has  been  supposed. 

A  word  about  the  voices  of  owls.  It  is  common  to 
speak  of  these  birds  as  "  hooting,"  but  what  is  meant  by 


THE  SAW-WHET  AND   OTHER   OWLS.         221 

this  term  is  not  very  clear.  The  little  screech-owl  has  a 
variety  of  notes,  not  one  of  which  is  suggestive  of  a 
"  hoot,"  as  I  understand  the  meaning  of  the  word.  The 
long-eared  owl  is  known  here  as  the  "  cat-owl,"  because 
its  voice  resembles  much  the  mewing  of  that  animal. 
The  great  horned  or  eagle-owl  has  the  nearest  to  a  "  hoot- 
ing "  note,  perhaps,  but  it  is  far  less  gloomy  than  one  might 
suppose.  In  broad  daylight  it  would  attract  and  inter- 
est one  ;  and  only  because  it  is  heard  at  night,  when  few 
other  sounds  but  the  hum  of  insects  are  to  be  heard, 
does  it,  popularly  speaking,  "  fill  one  with  dread."  These 
large  owls  fret,  cackle,  laugh,  and  chatter,  rather  than 
"  hoot."  The  barn-owls,  although  abundant,  do  not  often 
"give  tongue."  Have  they  learned  wisdom  by  experi- 
ence, and  fear  that  by  hooting  they  will  only  make  their 
whereabouts  better  known  ?  Not  long  ago,  however,  I 
heard  one  of  them  scream  to  some  purpose.  On  the  5th 
of  May,  1883,  my  nephew  discovered  a  nest  of  this  owl, 
containing  six  eggs  and  the  mother  bird.  With  some 
difficulty  she  was  secured  and  placed  in  a  covered  basket. 
With  her  new  surroundings  she  was  evidently  disgusted, 
and  soon  uttered  the  shrillest  and  most  unearthly  scream 
I  have  ever  heard  from  beast  or  bird.  It  may  be  repre- 
sented by  the  letters  Jcr-r-r-r-r-r — ick  !  Commencing  as 
a  low  murmur,  the  volume  of  sound  gradually  increased 
until  it  became  an  ear-piercing  shriek,  ending  suddenly 
with  a  click.  The  bird  at  the  time  opened  its  beak 
widely,  and  closed  it  suddenly  with  the  ending  of  the 
utterance.  It  was  several  times  repeated. 

I  say  it  was  the  wildest  scream  I  ever  heard.  Not 
so ;  once,  a  year  or  more  before,  while  passing  along 
the  wooded  bank  of  Watson's  creek  at  night,  I  was 
fairly  frightened  by  a  wild  scream  I  had  never  heard 
before,  and  failed  then  to  identify.  What  manner  of 


222  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

bird  or  mammal  uttered  it  was  then  and  subsequently  a 
mystery,  until  the  captured  owl  screamed  as  I  have  de- 
scribed. Then  I  knew.  It  was  the  same  cry ;  but  this 
time  louder,  wilder,  more  unearthly  than  before. 

In  the  interesting  series  of  weather  proverbs  published 
recently  as  "  Signal  Service  Notes,  No.  IX,"  there  are 
three  references  to  the  hooting  of  owls,  no  one  of  which, 
I  think,  merits  attention  as  a  weather-sign.  It  is  said,  for 
instance,  that  "  owls  hooting  indicate  rain."  "What  of 
the  owls  that  cry  so  persistently  during  the  summer 
drought  that,  early  or  late,  is  sure  to  corne  ?  For  the 
past  eleven  years  we  have  had  a  "  dry  spell "  of  four  to 
six  weeks'  duration  every  summer,  yet  the  owls  did  not 
fail  to  hoot.  So  too,  in  winter,  the  cat-owls  scream  every 
night,  whatever  the  weather. 

Again,  "  if  owls  scream  in  foul  weather,  it  will  change 
to  fair."  Probably,  but  not  because  the  owls  scream. 
During  protracted  rain-storms  in  autumn,  and  particular- 
ly in  November,  the  short-eared  owls  that  frequent  the 
meadows  are  exceedingly  noisy.  Day  and  night,  if  two 
or  three  chance  to  roost  in  the  same  tree,  they  will  hoot 
in  concert,  from  sunset  to  midnight,  and  no  more  on  the 
day  preceding  a  "  clearing  up  "  of  the  weather  than  dur- 
ing the  first  of  half  a  dozen  rainy  days.  More  strange 
than  all,  it  is  said,  "if  owls  hoot  at  night,  expect  fair 
weather."  When,  if  not  at  night,  do  owls  hoot  ?  To  be 
sure,  the  marsh-owl  screams  during  the  day  occasionally. 
So,  too,  do  the  snowy  and  great  horned  owls ;  but  some 
unusual  occurrence  prompts  this.  Surely,  the  regular 
hooting  hours  of  all  owls  are  after  they  have  left  their 
roosting-places  and  are  moving  about,  either  in  search 
of  company  or  hunting  for  food,  and  this  is  after  sunset. 

The  principal  food  of  our  owls,  except  the  saw-whet, 
is  the  ever-abundant  field-mouse.  I  know  that  both 


THE  SAW-WHET  AND   OTHER   OWLS.         223 

the  snowy  owl  and  the  great  horned  owl  capture  mice ; 
the  former  hunting  them  with  much  skill,  if  there  are 
stretches  of  bare  ground  accessible,  during  the  weeks  in 
midwinter  when  these  birds  visit  us.  The  equally  rare 
barred  owl,  too,  cares  more  for  a  mouse  than  for  a  chicken 
or  pigeon ;  and  I  have  long  insisted  that  whatever  of 
valued  bird-life,  even,  these  large  owls  may  destroy,  really 
counts  for  little  in  comparison  to  the  good  they  do  in  de- 
stroying field-mice.  Certainly,  owls,  as  a  class,  merit  our 
protection,  and  should  be  spared  the  senseless  persecution 
to  which  they  are  subjected.  The  loss  of  a  chicken  or 
quail  or  grouse  signifies  little  indeed,  when  we  consider 
the  value  of  all  checks  to  the  increase  of  mice.  These 
creatures  multiply  so  rapidly,  and  work  so  much  destruc- 
tion in  cultivated  fields  the  year  through,  that  any 
mouse-eating  animal,  whether  owl  or  hawk,  is  a  bene- 
factor to  mankind.  The  persecution  to  which  owls  and 
hawks  have  been  subjected,  even  in  many  localities  to 
the  verge  of  extinction,  has  resulted  in  losses  to  the 
farmer,  by  the  resulting  increase  in  field-mice,  quintu- 
ple the  value  of  all  the  poultry  that  might  have  been 
destroyed  had  birds  of  prey  been  reasonably  abundant. 
These  may  appear  rash  statements,  hastily  expressed,  but, 
in  reality,  are  my  firm  convictions — the  results  of  careful 
observation  and  study  of  the  habits  of  these  birds  for 
fully  twenty  years. 

No  objection,  however,  can  be  urged  against  the  saw- 
whets,  on  the  score  of  their  diet.  In  winter,  a  mouse  or  a 
snow-bird  satisfies  them  for  a  week  or  more  ;  and  during 
the  other  seasons,  insects,  whenever  attainable,  are  their 
favorite  food.  Black  crickets,  brown  grasshoppers,  and 
even  pea-green  katydids,  are  eaten  in  large  numbers.  So, 
too,  the  larger  moths  are  eagerly  devoured.  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  one  reason  why  we  see  so  few  large  moths, 


224:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

such  as  the  cecropia,  polypheme,  promethean,  and  lunar 
moths,  in  comparison  to  the  number  of  cocoons  that  are 
to  be  found  during  the  winter  clinging  to  the  bushes,  is 
that  no  sooner  are  the  matured  insects  on  the  wing  than 
this  owl,  the  little  red  owl,  and  the  bats,  attack  them.  I 
have  twice  found  the  remnants  of  many  wings  of  these 
four  moths  in  the  hollows  of  trees  where  the  sawr-whets, 
for  the  time,  were  living.  This  fact,  further,  was  once 
very  forcibly  brought  to  my  attention  by  an  annoying 
incident.  For  several  summers  I  have  been  anxious  to 
secure  a  good  example  of  the  rare  walnut-moth  (Cerato- 
campa  Tegalis),  and  during  a  pleasant  August  evening  last 
summer  was  delighted  to  see  one  fluttering  against  the 
window,  struggling  to  enter  the  room,  where  a  bright 
light  was  burning.  I  hurried  out  of  doors  to  capture  my 
prize,  but  was  too  late.  A  saw-whet  owl  that  had  been 
roosting  in  a  pine-tree  near  by  had  also  seen  the  moth, 
and,  pouncing  down,  seized  it  while  I  was  reaching  up- 
ward for  the  same  purpose. 

Prior  to  1877  I  had  not  found  any  specimens  of  this 
owl  in  the  neighborhood.  On  January  16th  of  that  year, 
after  two  weeks  of  quite  uniform  cold  and  snowy  weather, 
it  proved  warm,  rainy,  and  a  dense  fog  prevailed.  A  few 
birds  of  several  kinds  twittering  in  the  cedars  drew  me 
out  of  doors,  and  I  found,  to  my  surprise,  that  the  snow- 
birds, sparrows,  titmice,  and  kinglets  had  discovered  one 
of  these  little  owls  in  a  cedar-tree,  and  were  discussing  its 
presence  with  many  emphatic  chirps  and  twitters. 

It  is  always  a  safe  conclusion  that  something  unusual 
has  occurred,  when  different  birds  congregate  about  one 
spot,  and  are  unusually  noisy  and  demonstrative.  Re- 
membering this,  led  me  to  discovering  the  saw-whet — the 
first  living  specimen  I  had  ever  seen. 

Since  then  these  owls  have   been  found  hero  every 


THE  SAW-WHET  AND   OTHER  OWLS.         225 

year,  not  merely  as  visitors  but  as  residents.  They  nest 
in  the  hollow  apple-trees  of  my  neighbor's  orchard,  and 
once  a  nest  was  built  in  a  remnant  of  a  "  leaf -nest "  of  a 
gray  squirrel.  But  one  brood,  I  think,  is  raised. 

Young  birds  of  the  characteristic,  uniform,  chocolate- 
brown  color  are  as  common  as  those  with  the  mottled 
plumage  of  adult  life.  The  plumage,  in  fact,  varies  much 
more  in  this  species  than  with  the  little  screech  or  red 
owl.  The  latter  may  be  red  or  gray ;  but  the  saw-whets 
vary  indefinitely  as  to  the  degree  of  mottling.  Particu- 
larly is  this  true  of  the  facial  disk.  I  have  seen  it  pure 
white,  with  scarce  a  trace  of  color  about  the  eyes;  and 
again,  the  dark  rim  of  the  orbits  was  so  wide  that 
but  little  white  was  noticeable  as  the  bird  sat  facing  you. 
There  are  many  other  characteristic  features,  however, 
always  present,  which  render  it  easy  at  all  times  to  in- 
stantly recognize  the  pretty,  innocent,  and  wise  little  saw- 
whet. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

NOTES     ON    OUK    HERONS. 

IF  those  who  are  fond  of  watching  the  habits  of  our 
many  birds  should  happily  have  ready  access  to  a  consid- 
erable expanse  of  meadow,  with  here  and  there  a  clump  of 
trees,  and  with  a  creek  meandering  through  it,  or  can 
wander  along  a  goodly  stretch  of  heavily  wooded  river- 
shore,  they  will  doubtless  have  abundant  opportunities  of 
studying  the  habits  of  a  class  of  birds  that  have  ever  been 
to  me  the  most  interesting  of  all. 

Being  so  different  from  all  the  others,  both  in  ap- 
pearance and  behavior,  and  forming,  as  they  do,  a  promi- 
nent feature  in  the  landscape  that  brings  us  into  closest 
communion  with  "  untamed  nature,"  these  birds,  known 
collectively  as  the  herons  or  Ardeidce,  offer  an  exhaustless 
fund  of  instruction  to  the  field  naturalist. 

In  the  vicinity  of  my  home  I  have  noted,  during  rny 
rambles,  the  great  blue  heron,  the  great  white,  the  snowy 
egret,  the  little  blue,  the  green,  the  two  night-herons,  and 
both  the  bitterns. 

The  first  mentioned  of  this  goodly  list  is  now  by  no 
means  abundant,  and  the  white  egrets  are  seen  even  less 
frequently.  The  smaller  blue  heron  seems  quite  indiffer- 
ent to  temperature,  and  single  specimens  are  often  met 
with  in  winter,  associated  with  the  very  common  night- 
heron,  which  latter  is  at  times  a  winter  resident,  though 


NOTES  ON  OUR  HERONS.  227 

as  a  rule  it  is  migratory  in  its  habits.  As  an  instance  of 
this  I  may  mention  that,  during  the  winter  of  1S69-'70, 
and  for  several  years  since,  a  family  of  common  night- 
herons  have  occupied  the  pine-trees  in  a  large  and  heavily 
wooded  yard  in  the  city  of  Trenton,  N.  J.  In  this  yard 
is  a  pond  which  is  fed  by  a  lively  spring,  and  which,  dur- 
ing the  above-mentioned  winter,  in  consequence  of  the 
mild  weather,  was  quite  free  from  ice,  the  vegetation  near 
it  being  comparatively  green.  The  many  frogs,  too,  were 
thoroughly  active  all  winter,  albeit  without  much  if  any 
food,  and  the  many  small  gold-fish  and  silvery-finned 
minnows  in  the  pond  were  as  readily  accessible  to  the 
herons  as  in  summer.  These  frogs  and  fish  afforded 
an  abundant  food-supply  to  these  birds  from  November 
to  April.  Occasionally  they  would  go  as  far  away  as  the 
river,  but  they  soon  returned,  having  probably  taken  the 
flight  for  exercise  and  not  to  search  for  food. 

Least  seldom  seen,  because  with  us  so  very  shy,  of  all 
these  long-legged  birds,  if  we  except  the  great  white  her- 
on, is  the  least  bittern.  I  have  seldom  found  more  than 
a  single  pair  in  the  same  neighborhood.  When  disturbed, 
unlike  the  big  bittern  or  "bog-trotter,"  it  gives  no 
hoarse  croak  as  it  takes  wing,  but  with  an  easy  flight  it 
goes  a  short  distance  and  drops  again  into  the  long  grass, 
where  it  is,  I  judge,  most  at  home.  It  does  not  feed  on 
fish  and  frogs  exclusively,  but  pursues  with  wonderful 
agility  the  grasshoppers  that  climb  the  blades  of  tall  grass 
and  the  stems  of  reeds.  Finding  a  nest,  in  1873,  I  took 
a  position  near  by,  in  hopes  of  seeing  something  of  the 
movements  of  the  parent  birds  when  unmolested ;  but  in 
this  I  was  disappointed,  except  so  far  as  to  determine 
that  they  returned  to  the  nest  on  foot.  For  the  two  hours 
that  I  watched  them  they  came  and  went  continually, 
but  not  once  did  they  fly  as  high  as  the  tops  of  the 


228  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

rushes.  Dr.  Cones  has  mentioned  a  resemblance  of  this 
bittern  to  the  rail-birds,  and,  when  a  good  opportunity 
offers  to  see  them  undisturbed,  this  resemblance  in  their 
habits,  and  especially  in  their  movements,  is  readily  seen. 
"While  the  larger  bittern  and  the  herons  have  each  a 
stately  walk,  and  perhaps  can  not  run,  this  little  bittern 
will  run  whenever  the  ground  will  permit ;  and  it  can 
twist  and  turn  in  and  out  among  the  reeds  and  rushes  with 
all  the  agility  of  a  king-rail.  I  have  several  times  seen 
them,  associated  with  the  soras,  run  out  from  the  grass 
to  the  muddy  banks  of  the  ditches,  and  along  them  for 
several  yards,  and  then  dart  in  again,  never,  the  while, 
taking  a  step  that  could  be  called  a  "  walk."  Neverthe- 
less, they  can  step  along  most  majestically ;  and  when,  as- 
suming for  the  time  the  proper  family  characteristics,  they 
fish  or  go  a-f  rogging,  they  act  their  part  with  due  proprie- 
ty ;  but  they  seemingly  prefer  to  act  like  rail-birds,  and  in 
this  respect  we  see  in  them  a  similarity  to  the  habits  of 
the  shrike  when  it  simulates  the  hawks. 

It  sometimes  happens  that  during  certain  summers 
many  of  these  herons,  of  the  rarer  species,  are  exceed- 
ingly abundant  for  a  short  time,  and  then  disappear 
altogether.  This  is  due,  not  to  any  peculiarity  of  the 
weather,  so  far  as  temperature  alone  is  concerned,  but  to 
those  occasional  excessive  rainfalls  which  result  in  tem- 
porarily flooding  the  large  tracts  of  meadow-land  that 
skirt  the  river.  These  meadows  are  usually  dry,  except 
in  scattered  small  areas,  but  when  submerged  they  afford 
a  desirable  hunting-ground  for  a  brief  period.  A  notable 
instance  of  this  occurred  in  1875. 

On  Monday,  August  2d,  of  that  year,  it  began  raining 
early  in  the  morning,  and  continued  to  rain,  except  dur- 
ing a  few  brief  intervals,  until  Friday,  the  20th.  The 
wind  varied  only  from  southeast  to  south.  About  ten 


NOTES  ON  OUR  HERONS.  229 

and  one  tenth  inches  of  rain  fell  in  these  nineteen  days, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  there  was  a  heavy  summer  freshet, 
the  meadows  skirting  the  river  being  submerged  to  a 
depth  of  from  two  to  six  feet. 

On  the  14th  a  flock  of  thirty  snowy  egrets  made  their 
appearance,  keeping  much  together,  avoiding  the  clumps 
of  tall  trees,  and  at  times  associating  very  familiarly  with 
a  flock  of  domestic  geese.  Occasionally,  the  great  blue 
herons  were  seen  in  scanty  numbers,  either  by  themselves 
or  associated  with  the  white  herons,  and  every  day  there 
were  numbers  of  the  small,  blue  herons,  but  these  excited 
no  comment  from  those  familiar  with  the  locality,  as  they 
are  very  abundant  every  year,  and  at  all  times.  Indeed, 
these — the  night-herons  and  great  bitterns — are  fixtures 
of  our  meadows,  and  not  to  see  them  would  be  far  more 
strange  to  "  the  folks  at  home  "  than  is  their  appearance 
to  the  stranger,  who  for  the  first  time  sees  and  hears 
them,  as  they  are  fishing  in,  or  flying  over,  the  creek 
near  by. 

August  17th,  a  small  flock  of  great,  white  egrets,  or 
herons,  made  their  appearance,  and  associated  familiarly 
with  the  smaller,  snowy  egrets  that  had  preceded  them 
by  three  days.  A  tract  of  level  meadow,  of  some  seventy 
acres  in  extent,  seemed  particularly  attractive  to  these 
birds,  and  I  had  excellent  opportunities  for  watching  their 
habits  during  their  brief  stay. 

It  is  proper  here  to  mention  that  even  flfty  years  ago 
both  of  these  white  egrets  or  herons  were  much  more 
common  along  the  Delaware  River,  from  May  to  Septem- 
ber, but  they  have  now  so  far  forsaken  the  neighborhood, 
especially  during  the  past  twenty  years,  that  their  pres- 
ence now  excites  surprise,  even  when  single  specimens 
are  seen  "  flying  over."  How  great  the  change  has  been 
since  the  settlement  of  the  country  by  Europeans,  can  be 


230  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

realized  when  we  compare  our  own  meager  notes  of  these 
birds,  and  indeed  of  all  the  herons,  with  the  remarks  made 
by  Kalm  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  "  Cranes," 
he  says,  at  the  beginning  of  the  century  (1TOO),  "  came 
hither  [along  the  Delaware]  by  hundreds  in  the  spring; 
at  present  [1748]  there  are  but  very  few ;  and,"  he  adds 
in  a  foot-note,  "  when  Captain  Amadas,  the  lirst  English- 
man that  ever  landed  in  North  America,  set  foot  on  shore 
(to  use  his  own  words),  'such  a  flocke  of  Cranes  (the 
most  part  white)  arose  under  us  with  such  a  cry,  redou- 
bled by  many  echoes,  as  if  an  armie  of  men  had  shouted 
together.' ':  In  a  subsequent  notice  of  our  herons  he 
says,  under  date  of  February  IT,  1749 :  "  Cranes  were 
sometimes  seen  flying  in  the  day-time  to  the  northward. 
They  commonly  stop  here  early  in  the  spring  for  a  short 
time,  but  they  do  not  make  their  nests  here,  for  they 
proceed  on  more  to  the  north.  Certain  old  Swedes  told 
me  that,  in  their  younger  years,  as  the  country  was  not 
yet  much  cultivated,  an  incredible  number  of  cranes  were 
here  every  spring,  but  at  present  (1749)  they  are  not  so 
numerous."  As  Kalm  here  refers  to  the  western  sand- 
hill crane,  it  is  a  matter  of  much  interest,  for  this  bird  has 
not  been  known  east  of  the  Alleghanies,  except  as  strag- 
glers, during  the  present  century. 

But  to  return  to  the  white  herons.  My  studies  of 
the  habits  of  birds  during  the  past  twenty  years  have  fre- 
quently suggested  to  me  that  when  any  bird  or  flock  of 
birds  deliberately  choose  to  frequent  a  very  limited  local- 
ity for  a  comparatively  long  time,  notwithstanding  the 
danger  occasioned  by  the  presence  of  man,  their  habits 
would  show  the  possession  of  faculties  that  can  not  be 
considered  simply  instinctive,  but  which  indicate  the  ex- 
ercise of  unusual  care,  forethought,  and  deliberation,  in 
their  endeavors  to  avoid  real  or  supposed  dangers  from 


NOTES  ON   OUR  HERONS.  231 

tins  source.  To  what  extent  this  is  true  is,  I  think, 
partly  shown  in  the  notes  I  have  taken  in  the  field  from 
Aug.  14:  to  Sept.  9,  1875,  inclusive.  Just  how  these 
movements  should  be  interpreted  the  reader  must  judge 
for  himself,  but  I  think  the  explanation  here  given  is 
most  in  accord  with  the  facts,  which  I  regret  my  inability 
to  describe  as  clearly  as  might  be  desirable.  Valuable  as 
they  undoubtedly  are,  written  descriptions  give  but  a 
faint  idea  of  the  varied  movements  and  daily  habits  of 
our  birds,  which  must  be  seen  to  be  really  appreciated. 

Now  it  is  very  evident,  I  may  state  at  the  outset,  that 
these  great  white  herons  know  that  their  size  and  color 
render  them  quite  conspicuous ;  and  I  noticed  every  day 
the  same  movements  on  their  part,  w^hich  demonstrated 
their  appreciation  of  this  fact.  They  invariably  kept  in 
the  middle  of  the  tract  of  meadow,  unless  when  feeding, 
and  then  never  ventured  nearer  than,  say,  one  hundred 
yards  to  the  wooded  margins  of  the  meadow,  or  to  the 
near  outstanding  trees.  This  shyness,  as  it  would  be 
called,  was  not  of  itself  at  all  remarkable,  but  as  it  was 
accompanied  with  another  habit  having  direct  relation  to 
it,  it  was  very  curious  and  clearly  indicated  reason.  This 
other  habit  was  that  of  rising  to  a  very  great  height 
always  when  passing  over  woods,  as  was  necessaiy  on 
coming  in  from  the  river,  along  the  banks  of  which  I  be- 
lieve they  had  their  roosting-places.  While  the  less  timid 
blue  herons  would  pass  leisurely  along  the  tree-tops,  not 
a  dozen  yards  above  them,  the  great  white  herons,  on 
being  disturbed,  or  when  voluntarily  leaving  the  mead- 
ow, would  rise  rapidly  to  an  unusual  height,  and,  appar- 
ently keeping  directly  over  the  spot  where  they  had  been 
standing,  would  not  commence  an  onward  flight  until  the 
upward  one  was  sufficiently  prolonged  to  assure  them  that 
they  were  wholly  out  of  harm's  way.  So,  when  returning 


232  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

to  the  meadow,  they  would,  as  it  were,  drop  from  the 
clouds,  while  the  blue  species  would  quietly  wing  their 
way  along  at  a  height  of  from  ten  to  forty  metres. 

Now,  inasmuch  as  no  white  egrets  have,  in  any  num- 
bers, visited  this  locality  for  several  years,  and  as  in  the 
Southern  States  they  are  little,  if  at  all,  more  wary  than 
the  blue  herons,  it  seems  to  me  to  follow  necessarily  that 
their  peculiarity  of  flight,  as  instanced  in  avoiding  sup- 
posed dangers,  could  not  be  hereditary,  and  was  really 
an  exercise  of  unusual  care  and  forethought  on  the  part 
of  these  birds ;  a  mental  operation  identical  with  thought 
in  man,  and  having  nothing  whatever  in  common  with 
instinct  as  understood  by  us. 

Why,  indeed,  a  flock  of  these  great  white  herons,  for 
nearly  four  weeks,  should  frequent  daily  a  tract  of  meadow 
so  small  as  this  of  seventy  acres,  it  would  be  very  diffi- 
cult if  not  impossible  to  determine ;  but  such  being  the 
case,  I  naturally  endeavored  to  mark  their  feeding-habits 
carefully,  and  this,  with  the  aid  of  a  powerful  glass,  I 
was  able  to  do.  Their  food  consisted  exclusively,  while 
on  the  meadows,  of  frogs  and  grasshoppers,  and  especially 
of  the  latter,  which  were  very  abundant,  and  which,  hav- 
ing been  caught  by  the  freshet  while  in  the  long  grass, 
were  so  wet  and  draggled  that  they  could  not  escape  by 
flight.  The  smaller  herons  seemed  always  occupied  in 
gathering  up  these  grasshoppers,  and  never  stopped  to 
plume  themselves  or  take  a  quiet  nap,  standing  on  one 
leg,  as  the  blue  herons  are  so  fond  of  doing.  The  great 
white  herons,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to  weary  of  gather- 
ing grasshoppers  and  frogs,  and  would  spend  much  time 
in  dressing  their  feathers ;  but,  while  really  undisturbed, 
they  never  ceased  to  be  suspicious,  and  the  little  flock 
seemed  to  have  a  mutual  understanding  for  their  common 
safety,  as  every  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  one  of  their 


NOTES  ON  OUR  HERONS.  233 

number  would  rise  well  up  into  the  air  and  circle  slowly 
about,  as  if  to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear.  If  at  such  a  time 
any  person  was  noticed  approaching,  or  I  purposely  showed 
myself  too  near  them,  the  flying  heron  would  give  a  loud, 
shrill  call,  and  they  would  all  rise  up  immediately  and  be 
gone  for  perhaps  an  hour.  I  frequently  disturbed  them, 
and  so  uniform  was  their  action  at  such  a  time,  that  I 
could  describe  in  advance  to  a  friend  what  would  be  their 
movements  when  alarmed.  So  unvarying  was  their 
method  of  leaving  and  returning  to  the  meadow  that  it 
seemed  only  explicable  by  considering  it  the  predeterm- 
ined routine,  resulting  from  a  consultation  had  among 
themselves,  when  circumstances  first  led  them  to  the  spot 
in  question. 

As  an  instance,  also,  of  these  birds  evidently  "  study- 
ing the  situation,"  I  daily  noticed  a  change  in  their  habits, 
as  the  waters  began  to  subside  and  restricted  their  range 
of  submerged  land.  Not  once  did  I  see  these  white 
herons  light  upon  dry  land  or  in  any  of  the  trees,  while 
in  both  places  the  blue  herons  did  so  continually.  These 
more  careful,  timid  if  you  will,  white  herons  unquestion- 
ably realized  fully  that  an  open  meadow,  even  when  only 
six  or  eight  inches  under  water,  afforded  no  cover  for 
their  arch  enemy,  man,  but  felt  that  he  might  crawl  dan- 
gerously near  in  the  long,  tangled  grass,  now  again  ex- 
posed. The  indication  of  this  evident  train  of  thought 
on  the  part  of  the  herons  consisted  in  the  marked  increase 
of  suspicion,  and  the  steadily  increasing  number  of  cir- 
cular flights,  on  the  part  of  some  of  their  number,  to  see 
if  any  danger  was  near. 

It  were  useless  to  endeavor  to  give  a  detailed  account 
of  their  many  interesting  movements,  all  of  which  were 
so  indicative  of  thought ;  but  the  whole  series  of  observa- 
tions, as  I  now  recall  them,  and  the  perusal  of  my  many 


234:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

brief  field-notes,  more  than  ever  fully  convince  me  that 
these  herons,  like  all  our  birds,  depend  upon  and  owe  their 
success  in  life  more  to  the  quality  of  their  reasoning  power 
than  they  do  to  the  mere  operations  of  blind  instinct. 

While  the  vocal  efforts  of  the  herons  can  not  be  com- 
mended for  their  melody,  there  is,  nevertheless,  a  wealth 
of  suggestiveness  in  the  hoarse  quok  !  of  the  night-heron, 
as  it  slowly  wings  its  way  above  you  in  the  dim  twilight. 
The  "  booming "  of  the  great  bittern  is  by  no  means  an 
unpleasant  sound,  except  perhaps  to  those  who  have  no 
ear  for  Nature's  varied  voices,  and  no  eye  for  beauty,  as 
it  is  found  in  precincts  man  has  not  marred  by  his  pres- 
ence. Perhaps  nowhere,  in  this  sadly  artificial  region 
where  I  chance  to  dwell,  is  there  left  a  trace  of  primitive 
times  so  pleasant  to  contemplate  as  the  meadow  and 
creek-side,  when,  in  the  gloaming,  the  herons  come  from 
their  noonday  haunts,  and  fishing  in  the  still  waters,  or 
flying  from  point  to  point  above  my  head,  they  call  to 
each  other,  and  express  perhaps  the  whole  range  of  their 
communicable  thoughts  in  the  one,  unvarying,  monoto- 
nous note,  quok  ! 

The  scarcely  less  harsh  cry  of  the  green  heron,  too,  is 
not  an  unwelcome  sound  to  me,  and  I  ahvays  greet  with 
pleasure  the  first  time  that  I  hear  it,  in  the  early  spring. 

A  few  words,  in  conclusion,  about  the  nesting  and 
other  habits  of  this  well-known  bird.  Certainly  it  must 
be  well  known,  for  no  bird  in  the  whole  fauna  seems  to 
be  so  abundantly  endowed  with  "  heaps  upon  heaps  "  of 
meaningless  names.  Never  yet  have  I  heard  it  called  a 
green  heron,  heron,  or  little  heron  ;  but  always,  "  poke," 
"  fly-up-the-creek,"  "  chuckle-head,"  "  bastard  wood-cock," 
and  so,  ad  infinitum.  Why,  indeed,  these  birds  should 
be  singled  out  in  this  manner,  and  ridiculed  by  a  multi- 
plicity of  defamatory  names,  I  have  yet  to  learn. 


NOTES  ON  OUR  HERONS.  235 

As  to  its  habits,  there  is  in  nearly  every  family  of 
birds  some  one  or  more  species  that  have  taken  more  or 
less  completely  upon  themselves  habits- not  characteristic 
of  the  family.  This  is  true,  in  a  measure,  of  the  little 
green  heron.  It  is  the  least  aquatic  of  all  the  family ; 
for,  while  strictly  a  wader  and  a  good  fisher,  it  neverthe- 
less is  not  so  dependent  upon  water  for  a  food-supply,  and 
is  often  found  in  high  and  dry  fields,  looking,  I  suppose, 
for  grasshoppers.  Time  and  again  have  I  seen  them  in 
the  woods,  where  no  water  was  to  be  found  except  that 
which  collected  about  the  few  small  springs,  and  which 
often  did  but  little  more  than  dampen  the  ground.  Like 
our  spotted  sandpiper,  dear  "  teeter  tilt  up  "  of  my  boy- 
hood, which  often  builds  in  the  upland  fields,  and  is  as 
much  at  home  on  a  worm-fence  as  is  the  sparrow,  the 
green  heron  will  nest  in  trees  where  there  is  no  water 
near,  and  remain  there  night  and  day,  the  greater  part  of 
the  time.  Not  that  they  do  not  visit  the  nearest  creeks, 
for  this  they  frequently  do ;  but,  unlike  the  herons  gener- 
ally, they  are  not  less  a  feature  of  our  uplands  than  are 
the  common  birds  of  our  door-yards.  Their  nests,  too, 
are  built  much  nearer  to  houses  than  are  those  of  any  other 
heron.  These  nests  are  flimsy  structures ;  often  not  over 
a  hundred  twigs,  loosely  laid  together,  constituting  the 
home  of  the  expected  brood ;  and  lucky  are  they  if  it 
holds  together  until  they  are  able  to  crawl  upon  some 
convenient  branch  to  await  the  growth  and  feathering  of 
their  wings.  One  little  colony  of  these  herons  built,  last 
summer,  in  a  clump  of  birches  near  the  house,  and  I 
think  one  third  of  the  eggs,  at  least,  were  broken  by  fall- 
ing through  the  nests  ;  nearly  all  of  which  were  so  open 
that  the  eggs  could  readily  be  seen  from  beneath.  How 
the  sitting  bird  kept  them  warm  enough  to  insure  their 
hatching  is  a  puzzle.  That  it  was  accomplished  by  con- 


236  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

tact  with  her  body  seems  incredible.  But  if  wofully  poor 
nest-builders,  and  painfully  awkward  brooders,  they  are 
attentive  parents,  and  as  long  as  the  young  herons  are  de- 
pendent, they  are  by  no  means  neglected. 

Among  the  changes  in  fauna  that  have  occurred 
within  historic  times,  the  disappearance  of  the  cranes 
should  here  be  noted.  Dr.  Turnbull,  in  his  "  Birds  of 
East  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey,"  remarks :  "  The 
Whooping-crane  (Grus  Americanus)  may  be  said  to  have 
disappeared,  not  even  a  straggler  having  been  seen  for 
some  years.  It  likewise  seems  to  have  been  once  very 
plentiful ;  for  we  read  in  Hakluyt's  *  Voyages,'  edition 
1589,  folio  729,  that  Captain  Philip  Amadas  and  his  fel- 
low-adventurers, who  visited  and  explored  the  coast  in  the 
year  1584,  <  having  discharged  their  harquebus-shot,  such  a 
flocke  of  Cranes  (the  most  part  white)  arose,  with  such  a 
crye,  redoubled  by  many  echoes,  as  if  an  armie  of  men 
had  showted  altogether.' " 

On  page  230  I  have  given  Kalm's  remarks  on  the 
former  occurrence  of  cranes  in  New  Jersey,  and  referred 
them  to  the  sand-hill  crane  of  the  "Western  States.  Dr. 
Turnbull  considers  that  the  Swedish  naturalist  referred 
more  particularly  to  the  whooping  crane.  This  may  pos- 
sibly be  true  ;  for,  as  Dr.  Turnbull  remarks,  it  was  known 
to  breed  in  Cape  May  County,  in  Wilson's  and  Audu- 
bon's  time,  and  stragglers  have  been  seen  as  recently  as 
1857.  It  is  more  than  probable,  however,  that  both  spe- 
cies were  once  abundant,  and  the  sand-hill  crane  the  more 
abundant  of  the  two. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

NOTES    ON   THE    WOOD-DUCK. 

WANDERING  along  the  weedy,  tangled  margin  of  a 
quiet  inland  creek,  where  giant  elms  and  scarcely  smaller 
maples  throw  sombre  shadows  at  evening  and  deepen  the 
gloom,  I  saw  moving  slowly  before  me  a  pretty  wood- 
duck  that  gave  me  but  a  moment  to  look  ere  it  disap- 
peared, not  by  flight  but  by  diving,  and  as  it  passed  out 
of  sight,  here  and  there  on  the  still  waters  suddenly 
moved  and  then  likewise  disappeared,  one  after  another, 
several  hitherto-unnoticed  ducklings.  I  had  no  opportu- 
nity then  to  watch  them  further. 

On  my  way  home,  however,  I  fell  to  thinking,  and 
wondered,  considering  that  wood-ducks  built  their  nests 
in  trees,  how  it  was  that  they  got  their  young  to  the 
water,  oftentimes  nearly  a  mile  away.  It  was  the  month 
of  June,  and  I  purposed  solving  this  question  if  it  should 
happen  to  be  my  good  luck  to  find  a  still  occupied  nest. 
Day  after  day  I  searched  every  probable  and  possible 
nesting-place,  and  finally,  where  I  scarcely  hoped  for  any 
trace  of  ducks  or  even  wood-peckers,  in  an  old  decayed 
apple-tree  I  found  a  nest  with  young  birds  that  were  just 
hatched.  How  I  rejoiced  over  my  discovery !  and  know- 
ing not  how  soon  the  old  birds  might  remove  the  young, 
I  sought  for  a  safe  retreat  from  which  I  might  watch  the 
tree  and  its  occupants ;  and  while  the  day  lasted  I  held 
my  place,  but  no  ducks  came  near  the  brood.  I  wondered 


238         RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

if  I  had  frightened  them  away.  Early  the  next  morning 
I  was  at  my  post,  and  waited  long  hours  without  result, 
but  at  last  not  in  vain.  In  the  distance,  clearly  limned 
against  the  cloudless  sky,  I  plainly  descried  a  small  duck. 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  object  came,  and  I  felt  sure  that  its 
flight  was  directed  to  this  very  nest.  Not  so,  for  to 
another  and  larger  tree,  a  hundred  yards  distant,  it  finally 
turned  and  alighted  on  an  outer  branch.  It  remained 
there  but  a  moment,  and  then  sailed  rather  than  flew  to 
the  nesting-tree  ;  and,  sitting  alongside  of  the  hollow  limb 
in  which  were  the  young,  it  seemed  rather  to  be  contem- 
plating some  of  its  own  affairs  than  concerned  about  the 
young  ducklings,  that,  as  freely  as  might  a  squirrel  or 
mouse,  clambered  about  the  limb  and  over  the  mother 
duck.  Doubtless  they  were  anxious  to  get  to  a  more 
congenial  home,  and  this  wish  was  intensified  by  the  be- 
ginning of  hunger,  for  it  is  doubtful  if  they  are  fed  at 
all  until  they  are  safely  afloat  in  some  quiet  pond. 

I  had  not  long  to  wait  before  the  modiis  operandi  of 
the  exodus  in  this  case  was  learned.  The  old  duck,  by 
sounds  or  actions,  gave  the  little  ducklings  to  understand 
that  they  were  to  follow  their  mother,  and  presently  she 
slowly  clambered  down  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  which 
grew  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees  from  the  level  sur- 
face of  the  ground,  and  was  followed  by  the  ducklings. 
A  curious  procession  they  made,  truly,  and  one  that  in 
times  of  plentiful  minks  and  weasels  would  doubtless  have 
proved  dangerous.  E~o  sooner  had  the  last  young  duck 
reached  the  ground  than  I  essayed  to  follow,  but  so  rapid 
were  their  movements,  and  so  zigzag  their  route,  that  it 
was  no  easy  work,  as  the  long  grass  often  effectually  con- 
cealed them.  But  I  caught  occasional  glimpses,  and 
found  that  with  but  little  deviation  from  the  most  direct 
route  they  had  wormed  their  way  to  the  nearest  water. 


NOTES  ON  THE   WOOD-DUCK. 

In  less  than  a  minute,  probably,  I  reached  a  point  near 
them  and  the  spot  at  which  they  entered  the  water ;  but 
the  old  duck  heard  me,  and  with  a  loud  "  quack,"  unlike 
the  common  quacking  of  a  tame  duck,  away  she  flew, 
while  the  little  ducklings,  catching  her  meaning,  dived,  I 
suppose,  and  hid  in  the  bulrushes  along  the  shore.  At 
any  rate,  I  never  saw  either  the  young  birds  or  the  old 
duck  again. 

There  is  one  fact,  too,  that  has  an  important  bearing 
on  this  subject.  It  is  well  known  to  those  who  have 
tried  to  rear  young  wood-ducks,  that  the  newly-hatched 
birds  have  long,  sharp,  really  cat-like  toe-nails ;  and  by 
their  aid  the  little  ducklings,  while  yet  bits  of  shell  cling 
to  their  backs,  can  clamber  over  the  limbs  of  trees,  and 
up  any  almost  perpendicular  surface,  if  at  all  rough.  I 
have  never  compared  their  feet  with  those  of  other  ducks, 
but  do  know  that  their  toe-nails  are  very  sharp  and  render 
climbing  easy. 

It  is  a  common  practice  in  this  neighborhood  to  search 
for  the  nests  of  the  wood-duck,  and  place  the  eggs  under 
a  barn-yard  fowl.  Young  ducks,  thus  reared,  become 
quite  tame,  but  it  is  considered  necessary,  as  soon  as  the 
young  are  hatched,  to  nip  the  points  of  their  nails  with 
a  pair  of  scissors.  Unless  this  is  done,  the  old  women 
that  "  'tend  poultry  "  say  the  young  ducks  will  climb  up 
any  wood- work  and  seek  out  the  nearest  water.  I  was  a 
little  skeptical  on  this  point  at  first,  but  have  been  con- 
vinced, having  seen  a  brood  of  young  ducks  climb  up 
rough  boards  a  distance  of  three  feet,  and  let  themselves 
down  on  the  other  side.  These  boards  were  worse  than 
perpendicular ;  they  leaned  over  toward  the  ducks.  So 
it  matters  not  where  the  nest  happens  to  be,  as  no  tree  is 
so  smooth  that,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  the  young  wood- 
ducks  could  not  get  down,  even  if  the  old  birds  did  not 


240  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

lend  them  some  assistance.  From  what  occurred  in  my 
neighbor's  poultry-yard,  I  should  think  young  wood-ducks 
might  venture  pretty  much  anywhere  that  a  squirrel 
would  climb.  Their  scansorial  ability  is  undoubtedly 
equal  to  all  occasions,  and  must  be  taken  into  considera- 
tion when  the  manner  of  the  exodus  of  the  young  ducks 
from  any  nest  is  a  matter  of  doubt. 

Two  years  later  I  found  another  duck's  nest.  In  this 
instance  the  nest  was  fully  fifty  feet  above  the  water, 
in  a  tangled  mass  of  twigs  and  grape-vine,  on  a  huge 
buttonwood  that  grew  from  the  water's  edge  and  towered 
nearly  one  hundred  feet  above  the  creek.  The  creek-bank 
here  was  a  steep  bluff  of  about  three  fourths  of  the  height 
of  the  tree,  and  over  all  of  the  slope  was  a  dense  growth 
of  moderate-sized  maples,  sassafras,  and  cedars.  Having 
by  chance  found  the  nest,  I  hunted  for  a  tree  growing 
on  the  bluff  that  would  afford  a  good  view  of  the  nest. 
Finally  succeeding,  I  took  up  my  position,  and  with  the 
aid  of  a  field-glass  discovered  the  duck  sitting  very  quietly 
on  her  nest.  Day  after  day  I  returned,  and  on  the  sixth 
from  the  date  of  discovery  of  the  nest,  the  eggs  were 
hatched.  Now  my  interest  was  fully  up  to  the  require- 
ments of  the  occasion,  and  I  was  determined,  at  all  cost, 
to  see  how  the  duck  would  solve  the  riddle — as  it  was  to 
me — of  removing  these  ducklings  to  the  water.  Go  they 
must,  and  that  speedily,  for  the  old  mother,  however  de- 
sirous, could  not  carry  food  to  the  young — at  any  rate, 
she  did  not.  There  they  were,  fifty  feet  above  the  water, 
in  a  tree  smooth  of  bark  and  almost  perpendicular.  How 
I  trembled  with  impatience  to  know  what  would  happen, 
and  how  long  it  seemed !  Would  they  climb  down  so 
tall  a  tree  ?  If  so,  I  trusted  I  should  be  on  hand  to  wit- 
ness the  descent. 

Two  days  passed,  and  still  these  little  fellows  stuck  to 


NOTES  ON  TEE   WOOD-DUCK. 

their  nest,  not  even  creeping  beyond  its  boundaries ;  but 
on  the  third  I  was  rewarded  for  my  persistence,  for  on 
taking  my  position  in  the  neighboring  tree,  I  saw  that 
some  of  the  young  had  disappeared,  and  I  felt  sure  the 
others  would  soon  follow,  unless,  indeed,  their  fellows  had 
fallen  from  the  nest.  This  proved  not  to  have  been  the 
case,  for,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour,  the  old  duck  made 
her  appearance,  and  now  I  fairly  held  my  breath  as  I 
watched  her  with  my  glass.  After  a  moment's  rest  she 
squatted  closely  down  on  the  nest,  and  a  duckling  quickly 
climbed  upon  her  back  and  nestled  closely  between  her 
shoulders.  The  old  bird  then  walked  slowly  to  the  very 
edge  of  an  overhanging  limb,  and  with  outspread  wings, 
with  a  slow,  flapping  motion  of  them,  let  herself  down, 
rather  than  flew,  to  the  water.  The  moment  she  touched 
the  surface  of  the  stream  she  dived,  and  left  the  duckling 
swimming  on  the  water,  and  to  all  appearances  perfectly 
at  home.  This  was  repeated  four  times,  when  the  tender 
brood  were  all  safely  afloat,  and  as  quick  to  scent  danger 
and  flee  from  it  as  was  their  wary  mother. 
11 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   SOUTHERLY  KATCT. 

"  WHAT  about  to-morrow  ?  "  I  asked  Uz,  as  we  stood 
on  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  gazed  over  the  meadows  at 
our  feet,  now  partially  enveloped  in  a  silvery  mist. 

Uz  wet  his  forefinger  and  held  it  up,  looking  closely 
at  the  movement  of  the  few  fleecy  clouds  above  as  he 
did  so.  After  a  brief  pause  he  replied,  with  the  air  of 
one  well  convinced  of  the  truth  of  his  opinion,  "  There'll 
be  a  southerly  rain  and  ducks." 

A  word  about  weather  predictions.  I  am  compelled 
to  admit  that  I  have  faith  in  the  judgment  of  men  like 
old  Uz  Gaunt,  when  they  pronounce  an  opinion  as  to  the 
morrow  or  a  day  or  two  beyond ;  but  he,  like  all  other 
men,  fails  in  the  matter  of  foretelling  seasons. 

Uz  does  not  like  my  referring  to  the  winter  of  1880- 
'81.  His  prediction,  which  he  early  made  known  to  me, 
was  quite  the  opposite  of  what  the  season  proved  to  be. 
He  consoled  himself,  however,  with  the  earnest  protest, 
that  he  was  never  before  mistaken;  and  that  "covers 
three  more  than  fifty  years  "  since  he  commenced  solving 
the  riddle  of  what  the  winters  will  be. 

"  Natur'  knows  what's  comin',"  he  has  often  said  to 
me,  "  and  Natur'  gets  ready  for  winter,  to  suit  the  sort  of 
weather  it's  goin'  to  be." 

This  is  a  common  impression  in  my  neighborhood, 
and  I  presume  is  so  everywhere ;  but  it  will  not  stand  the 


A  SOUTHERLY  RAIK  243 

test  of  statistics.  Corn-husks,  pigs'  spleens,  goose  breast- 
bones, squirrels'  magazines  of  nuts,  musk-rat  houses,  all 
are  relied  upon  by  country  people,  but  not  one  is  trust- 
worthy. Perhaps  the  position  of  the  dark  and  light  por- 
tions of  the  breast-bones  of  geese  (i.  e.,  geese  hatched 
the  previous  spring)  is  more  relied  upon  as  an  indication 
of  the  "  open  "  or  cold  weather  of  an  approaching  winter 
than  all  the  others ;  but  it  can  not  be  of  any  use,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  because,  in  a  number  of  such  bones 
reported  upon  by  as  many  different  people,  there  was 
nothing  like  unanimity ;  and,  strangely  enough,  it  is  yet 
an  open  question  whether  the  light  portion  of  the  bone 
is  indicative  of  "open"  weather,  and  the  dark  portion 
of  cold,  or  vice  versa. 

What  originally  gave  rise  to  these  various  signs  is 
well  worth  tracing ;  but  it  is  not  to  be  dwelt  upon  here. 

Having  wandered  too  far  already,  let  us  take  a  back 
track  and  return  to  the  hill-top  where  Uz  still  is  standing. 
No  man  who,  without  any  pretensions  to  "  book-learning," 
studied  Nature  out-of-doors  probably  ever  excelled  Uz 
Gaunt  in  correct  impressions  of  Nature's  methods.  As 
a  sportsman,  or  u  a  gunner,"  as  he  called  himself,  he  was 
a  success ;  for  no  one  could  excel  him  in  finding  game, 
or  in  bringing  it  down.  This,  however,  never  worried 
me,  for  he  generously  gave  me  chances  to  shoot,  although 
I  often  failed  to  secure  a  duck  which  he  would  surely 
not  have  missed.  But  Uz  kept  himself,  at  times,  when 
I  was  with  him,  so  busied  about  the  movements  of  the 
birds  he  sought,  and  was  so  interested  in  determining 
how  nearly  correct  he  had  been  in  his  calculations  as  to 
their  whereabouts,  that  he  forgot  to  shoot  when  they 
were  flushed.  Not  long  since,  he  sculled  up  to  a  flock  of 
widgeon  which  we  could  not  see,  but  which  he  "  knew  " 
were  "just  beyond  that  clump  of  alders."  I  had  my 


244  EAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

doubts,  and  expressed  them ;  but  he  was  very  firm. 
"  They're  skulkin'  in  there ;  now  see  if  they  ain't,"  he 
persisted,  and  so  nearer  and  nearer  we  drew  toward  the 
bushes.  His  gun,  already  cocked,  lay  in  his  lap,  and  I 
was  ready.  Up  they  jumped,  sure  enough,  and  I  got  in 
both  barrels.  Uz  never  thought  of  his  gun,  but  ex- 
claimed with  pride,  "  I  told  you  so  !  "  It  was  enough  for 
him  to  be  correct  in  his  opinion.  Is  it  any  wonder,  then, 
that  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  our  local  zoology  I 
should  have  found  him  both  well  posted  and  reliable  ? 

"When  the  to-morrow  I  mentioned  at  the  opening  of 
this  chapter  came,  it  proved  to  be  a  warm,  rainy  day, 
with  a  southerly  wind,  or  "  south-southerly,"  as  he  always 
called  it.  By  this  he  meant  that  the  wind  might  shift 
from  southeast  to  southwest,  possibly;  but  at  all  times 
would  be  essentially  "  southerly."  Uz  was  right  in  this, 
and  the  rain  came  down  in  a  steady  pour,  with  now  and 
then  a  very  brief  intermission ;  and  the  river  was  soon 
swollen  to  the  freshet  stage.  The  meadows  disappeared 
beneath  a  covering  of  shallow  waters ;  and,  better  than 
all  else,  the  ducks  came. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day,  Uz  and  I 
stood  on  the  hill-top  and  took  a  general  survey  of  the 
country  before  starting  out.  He  noted  the  direction  of 
the  wind,  the  general  distribution  of  the  clouds  at  the 
time,  and  then,  pointing  toward  the  river  with  a  signifi- 
cant nod,  quietly  remarked,  "  I  said  so."  I  looked  in  the 
direction  indicated,  and,  sure  enough,  a  long,  zigzag  line 
of  ducks  was  coming  up  the  river.  "Widgeon  and 
teal,"  he  remarked  after  a  pause,  and  then  made  a  move 
to  go  to  the  boat.  I  wondered  how  he  knew  they  were 
widgeon  and  teal,  instead  of  black  ducks  and  sprig-tails, 
but  forbore  asking,  and  on  we  walked  until  we  reached 
the  boat. 


A  SOUTHERLY  EAIN.  245 

A  light  cedar  skiff,  well  trimmed  with  evergreens, 
and  just  large  enough  to  hold  us  both,  it  was  a  pleasant 
thing  to  sit  in  when  Uz  did  the  sculling.  With  a 
scarcely  appreciable  motion  of  the  wrist,  he  caused  the 
boat  to  move  rapidly  yet  noiselessly  through  the  water, 
and,  in  some  way  past  my  comprehension,  he  knew  just 
where  a  flock  of  ducks  would  be,  if  they  tarried  in  the 
overflowing  meadows.  This  day  it  was  a  repetition  of 
the  story  that  may  be  told  by  any  one  who  has  sculled 
after  ducks.  At  times  we  were  too  much  for  the  ducks, 
and,  getting  good  shots,  brought  down  several.  Then, 
again,  the  ducks  were  too  much  for  us,  and  were  out  of 
shot,  in  spite  of  all  of  Uz's  ingenuity  and  our  united  care- 
fulness. 

There  came  a  lull  in  the  day's  occupation,  however, 
of  more  interest  to  me  than  the  shooting.  This  was 
when  we  hauled  up  for  a  lunch  and  smoke.  It  met 
with  Uz's  approbation  as  well  as  my  own,  and,  when 
our  pipes  were  lighted,  I  drew  him  out  as  I  had  seldom 
done  before.  It  was  a  great  treat  to  listen  to  what  I 
may  call  a  natural  naturalist,  a  man  that  had  read 
no  zoological  literature  and  never  heard  of  Darwin  or 
Huxley. 

"  Ducks,  it  appears  to  me,"  remarked  Uz,  as  he  gazed 
at  the  pile  of  a  dozen  lying  in  the  boat,  "  either  have  a 
strong  smack  of  the  human  about  them,  or  man  has  a 

O  / 

little  of  the  duck  about  him." 

"  Why  so  ? "  I  asked  in  surprise,  for  Uz  was  not  much 
given  to  voluntary  philosophizing. 

"  Because  they  are  so  cunning,  and  do  so  many  things 
that  we'd  do  in  the  same  situation.  Now,  there's  the 
green  mallards.  They  will  skulk  in  long,  green  grass, 
and  keep  their  heads  movin'  with  it,  just  so  they  can  see 
you,  but  you'd  never  mistrust  they  were  around.  'You 


246  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

don't  see  a  widgeon  do  the  same  thing.  They'll  pitch 
for  some  dead  stuff,  hay  or  rubbish,  more  their  own 
color." 

"  But  ducks  don't  always  have  these  chances,"  I  pro- 
tested, "and  when  there's  nothing  but  water  they've  only 
an  even  chance." 

"  That's  very  true  when  we're  talking  about  the  river, 
or  some  big  lake;  but  I'm  talkin'  of  ducks  on  these 
meadows.  For  something  like  fifty  years  I've  shot  over 
this  tract,  and  don't  know  about  any  other  but  by  hear- 
say ;  but  if  you  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  our  meadow 
ducks,  I'll  tell  you." 

"  Well,  Uz,  I  won't  interrupt  again,  and  I  do  want  to 
hear  all  you've  a  mind  to  tell  me." 

"Take  'em  for  all  in  all,"  Uz  continued,  "the  sprig- 
tail  is  the  shyest  duck  we  have,  and  I've  been  outwitted 
more  by  them  than  any  other  duck ;  but,  dear  me !  there 
ain't  the  ducks  now  there  was  when  I  was  a  young  man. 
I've  seen  a  thousand  at  a  glance  on  the  lower  meadows. 
Well,  as  to  the  sprig-tails,  the  last  time  I  had  a  chance  at 
a  flock  of  'em,  worth  speakin'  of,  was  nigh  on  to  ten  years 
ago.  A  good  fall  fresh'  covered  all  the  meadows,  except 
the  high  knolls,  and  I  went  down  toward  the  Swan  Island 
flood-gates  on  Cross  wicks  Creek.  Not  a  duck  came  near 
the  stools  for  well  onto  an  hour,  and  I'd  a  mind  to  go 
somewhere  else,  when  I  happen  to  see  a  bunch  of  teal 
makin'  right  for  me.  I  crouched  down,  and  they  came 
in  easy  shot,  and  I  blazed  away.  Fetched  three  and  crip- 
pled another,  and  then,  what  the  snakes  should  jump  up, 
but  a  great  swad  of  sprig-tails  right  back  of  me !  They'd 
actually  been  walkin'  about  in  the  high  grass  back  of  me, 
and  I  believe  calculated  their  chances  and  knew  I'd 
be  lookin'  for  ducks  on  the  water,  and  not  high  and  dry 
on  the  knolls.  I'd  a  good  notion  of  sprig-tails'  cunnin' 


A  SOUTHERLY  RAIN. 

before  then,  but  that  made  me  set  'em  down  as  the  cun- 
nin'est  of  all  ducks." 

"  Perhaps  the  ducks  didn't  see  you,"  I  suggested. 

"  Perhaps  they  didn't,  only  they  did,  just  the  same. 
Why,  boy,"  exclaimed  Uz  with  unusual  energy,  "  those 
sprig-tails  were  within  twenty  yards  of  me  all  the  time, 
and  to  think  I  didn't  even  smell  'em !  " 

Uz  here  took  a  few  contemplative  puffs,  and  watched 
the  curling  smoke  in  silence.  Then,  in  his  usual  quiet 
manner,  continued:  "I'll  tell  you  another  thing  about 
sprig-tails.  More  than  once  I've  noticed  that  they  make 
sort  of  slaves  of  smaller  ducks.  I've  seen  a  dozen  sprig- 
tails  circle  'round  a  lot  of  stools,  and  wait  until  the  teal 
that  were  with  'em  sort  of  investigated  the  matter.  The 
teal  would  settle  down  near  by,  and  all  would  seem  right ; 
and  then  the  sprig-tails  would  settle,  but  always  on  the 
off  side  of  the  stools ;  and,  if  they  got  very  near,  they'd 
smell  a  mouse  and  put  off.  I've  often  killed  the  teal 
in  a  flock  of  sprig-tails,  and  lost  every  one  of  the  others." 

"  But  isn't  it  merely  that  the  teal  are  less  suspicious  ? " 
I  asked,  as  Uz  paused  for  a  moment. 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  he  replied ;  "  they  are  more  sus- 
pectin',  I  know ;  but  what  I  mean  is,  they  go  with  the 
teal  for  the  purpose  of  havin'  them  go  first  into  doubtful 
places,  and  sort  of  test  'em.  If  no  harm  comes  to  them, 
then  the  sprig-tails  think  it's  safe  for  them,  too." 

"  That  is  giving  them  credit  for  a  good  deal,"  I  re- 
marked. 

"  Not  a  speck  more  than's  due  'em ;  and  here's  an- 
other way  they're  cunnin'.  They  haven't  got  owls'  eyes, 
I  suppose,  but  go  a  good  deal  by  smell ;  and  they'll  leave 
the  river  after  sundown,  and  come  in  on  the  meadows  to 
feed  when  there's  nobody  to  disturb  'em.  I  learned 
their  dodge,  and  tried  night-huntin',  but  it  was  no  use. 


248  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

They'd  feed  by  night  where  they'd  never  go  by  day,  but 
the  whole  place  would  be  picketed,  and  you  couldn't  get 
anywhere  near  'em.  Before  your  boat  was  shoved  off, 
1  quack ! '  would  ja,wp  some  spy,  and  the  whole  kit  and 
caboodle  would  be  off.  I  could  hear  their  splash  on  the 
water  as  they  rose  up,  but  couldn't  see  a  feather." 

"  I've  noticed  all  this  too,  Uz,  but  where  is  it  like 
human  nature  to  do  as  you've  described?" 

"  Just  here — just  here.  The  ducks  we've  left  us  in 
these  parts  know  at  a  glance  that  it's  dangerous  ground 
for  'em,  and  so  they  learn  at  the  start  to  be  extra  careful. 
None  of  'em  are  hatched  about  here,  and  couldn't  know 
beforehand  they'd  ever  see  such  a  place ;  and  yet,  so 
soon  as  the  freshets  bring  'em  up  the  river,  they  take  it 
all  in  at  once,  and  work  accordin'.  A  wild  duck  is  wild 
anywhere ;  but  'round  here  he's  wilder  than  ever ;  and 
this  bein'  wilder  only  means  that  he  has  to  be  more  care- 
ful and  cunnin',  and  so  he  is  so.  That  is  why  I  think  a 
duck  has  some  sort  of  a  mind.  It's  a  hard-twisted  sub- 
ject, I  know  ;  but  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I've  a 
notion  that  there's  a  smack  of  man-nature  in  wild  ducks, 
or  t'  other  way,  just  as  you  please." 

"Most  people  would  want  stronger  evidence  than 
you  mention,  Uz,  to  make  them  think  so,"  I  replied,  not 
knowing  what  to  say,  really. 

"  I  s'pose  they  would — I  s'pose  they  would ;  but  the 
only  way  to  see  things  as  I  do  is  to  use  my  eyes.  Follow 
up  the  ducks  and  other  critters  about  here,  as  I've  done, 
and  they'll  look  very  different  to  you  from  what  they  do 
when  you  see  'em  once  a  year  only,  and  then  in  a  m'nagerie. 
Pshaw !  boy,  it  takes  years  to  get  to  knowing  birds  and 
things ;  but  when  you  do,  you'll  give  'em  more  credit  for 
common-sense  than  the  crowd  gives  'em.  When  you're 
my  age,  boy,  if  you  follow  it  up,  you'll  think  as  I  do.' 


A  SOUTHERLY  RAIN.  249 

"  I  have  been  following  up  this  matter  for  some  time, 
Uz,  and  have  written  something  about  it,"  I  replied, 
when  he  had  fairly  finished  his  little  speech  and  com- 
menced a  vigorous  puffing  at  his  pipe. 

"Written  something?  well,  that's  no  harm.  Did 
you  have  it  printed  ? " 

"  Yes,  certainly  ;  but  why  not  ? " 

"  Well,  there's  just  this  about  it,"  Uz  remarked  very 
slowly,  evidently  thinking  as  he  spoke.  "  It  may  be  all 
very  well  to  print  what  you  know;  but  I've  a  notion 
that  you're  not  old  enough  yet  to  know  much  about 
it." 

"  You  forget  that  you've  been  my  teacher  for  some 
years  now,  Uz,"  I  interrupted  the  old  man  to  remark. 

"  Cleverly  put,  boy ;  but  I  was  goin'  on  to  say,  you 
don't  know  ducks  as  I  do ;  but  then — but  then — but 
then,  if  you  wait  till  you're  as  old  as  I  am,  and  see  things 
as  I  do,  the  world  might  set  you  down  as  cranky,  if  you 
printed  what  you  thought." 

"  That  isn't  very  encouraging,  anyhow,"  I  said,  with 
a  half  sigh. 

"  The  fact  is,  boy,  that  it  can't  be  proved,  I  suppose ; 
but  animals  of  all  kinds  are  not  so  wide  apart  from  folks 
as  these  very  folks  think  they  are.  If  I've  learned  nothing 
else,  by  shootin'  and  fishin'  all  my  life,  I've  learned  that. 
I've  seen  common-sense  in  snakes  and  frogs  even ;  and 
I'm  satisfied  there's  a  sort  of  family  likeness  runnin' 
through  the  whole  of  us,  whether  we've  got  two  legs  or 
four." 

"  That  is  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  Uz,"  I  remarked. 

"  Call  it  what  you  choose,  boy,  but  it's  true  ;  and  my 
pipe's  out,  and  it's  time  we  were  movin'."  And  we  con- 
tinued on  our  wanderings  after  ducks. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

SIIOET    STUDIES    OF    TURTLES. 

IN  the  course  of  my  rambles  about  home  I  have 
found  that  the  turtles  and  tortoises  are  quite  as  well  rep- 
resented as  the  serpents  in  the  fauna  of  this  neighbor- 
hood. 

In  the  upland  fields  and  dry  woodlands  there  is  one 
tortoise  that  is  moderately  abundant  and  quite  at  home. 
A  second  is  also  occasionally  met  with.  All  other  turtles 
that  we  may  chance  to  meet  are  either  of  an  aquatic  or  a 
semi-aquatic  species,  and  have  left  their  usual  haunts  but 
temporarily.  In  the  books  it  is,  I  know,  otherwise  stated, 
and  four  of  the  ten  species  are  mentioned  as  characteris- 
tic of  high  and  dry  localities ;  but  this  does  not  accord 
with  my  experience,  and  it  is  thought  to  be  an  error. 

The  one  common  strictly  upland  species  known,  al- 
though imperfectly,  to  everybody,  is  the  box-tortoise  or 
"land-turtle."  While  this  animal  usually  fails  to  rouse 
any  particular  interest  in  the  minds  of  those  who  meet 
with  it,  still  I  never  knew  a  person  who  did  not  pause 
for  a  moment  when  one  crossed  his  path.  Indeed,  it 
generally  happens  that  the  creature  is  picked  up,  turned 
over,  shaken  rudely,  and  scanned  closely  to  see  if  any 
name,  initials,  or  date  has  been  cut  upon  its  shell.  Fur- 
thermore, its  peculiar  structure,  its  awkward  gait,  and  the 
habit  of  promptly  withdrawing  its  head  and  limbs  within 
its  portable  house,  and  suddenly  slamming  the  front  door. 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  251 

all  cause  the  passer-by  to  gaze  at  it  for  a  while  ;  though 
these  tortoises  seldom  have  been  closely  followed  up  and 
their  peculiar  lives  made  familiar  to  the  world  at  large. 
To  most  of  us,  it  is  best  known  as  a  convenient  object  upon 
which  to  exercise  our  ingenuity  in  rude  sculpture ;  and 
the  "  under  shell "  not  unfrequently  bears  the  initials,  with 
the  date  of  carving,  of  some  idler  who  pauses  for  a  few 
moments  thus  to  cut  what  will  perhaps  prove  to  be  the 
most  durable  mark  that  he  will  ever  make  in  this  world. 
This  curious  fancy,  however,  has  proved  to  be  not  alto- 
gether devoid  of  interest  to  the  naturalist;  for,  assum- 
ing that  the  dates  are  correct,  it  has  been  shown  thereby 
that  this  tortoise  lives  to  a  great  age,  and  remains 
throughout  its  life  in  one  neighborhood.  While  there  is 
great  danger  in  basing  conclusions  upon  such  uncertain 
data,  still  it  is  highly  improbable  that  in  most  cases 
these  dates  are  incorrectly  given.  There  are  far  too 
many  instances  known  to  families  living  in  the  country, 
of  marked  tortoises  being  seen  at  intervals,  year  after  year, 
for  several  generations.  My  father  recently  informed  me 
that,  when  a  boy,  he  frequently  found  a  tortoise  upon  the 
plastron  of  which  were  carved  the  letters  "  "W".  W."  ;  and 
that  his  father  had  stated  to  him  that,  when  he  was  a 
young  man,  this  tortoise  had  frequently  been  found  by 
him.  The  letters  were  known  to  be  the  initials  of  one 
who  had  lived  near  by  many  years  previously.  It  was 
known  that  eighty  years  had  certainly  elapsed  since  the 
letters  were  carved.  The  tortoise  was  fully  grown,  and 
probably  was  an  old  one  when  marked  by  William  Wat- 
son with  his  initials.  In  this  connection  it  may  be  men- 
tioned that  the  late  Professor  Agassiz  stated  the  growth 
of  turtles  to  be  "  exceedingly  slow.  ...  I  have  col- 
lected data  which  prove  satisfactorily  that  our  common 
Chrysemys  picta  does  not  lay  eggs  before  it  is  ten  or 


252  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

eleven  years  old,  and  even  then  it  is  by  no  means  full 
grown." 

While  to  a  certain  extent  carnivorous  in  habit — it  de- 
vours earth-worms  greedily — the  box-tortoise  is  essentially 
a  vegetable  feeder,  and  in  summer  depends  largely  upon 
berries  growing  upon  the  ground.  Strawberries,  dew- 
berries, and,  later  in  the  year,  windfalls  from  fruit-trees, 
form  an  important  portion  of  their  food.  Decomposed 
animal  matter,  also,  is  freely  eaten.  Dull,  stupid,  and 
sluggish  as  these  tortoises  appear  to  be,  they  are  not  really 
so  inert  as  is  usually  thought.  When  two  or  three  are 
gathered  together,  and  are  left  to  themselves,  they  ex- 
hibit a  considerable  degree  of  animation,  and  give  evi- 
dence of  an  intercommunication  of  ideas.  As  the  result 
of  watching  a  pen  of  tortoises,  myself  remaining  motion- 
less and  unseen  by  them,  I  became  satisfied  that  they 
took  much  notice  of  each  other.  They  would  often  face 
each  other  and  crane  their  necks  to  the  utmost,  then 
quickly,  and  with  frequent  repetition,  snap  their  jaws  and 
occasionally  utter  a  faint  squeaky  note,  not  unlike  that  of 
a  mouse.  I  have  seen  them,  also,  strike  at  each  other 
with  their  fore-feet,  evidently  in  play,  and  then  scamper 
off  in  opposite  directions  with  all  possible  speed.  They 
are  likewise  prone  to  anger,  and  have  been  known  to 
fight  fiercely  over  a  small  supply  of  food.  These  con- 
tests are  a  matter  of  jaws  and  toe-nails,  both  of  which 
are  brought  into  play,  but  I  never  knew  the  foot  of 
one  tortoise  to  become  fastened  in  the  shell  of  its  op- 
ponent. 

I  have  never,  to  my  knowledge,  found  the  eggs  of 
this  tortoise,  but  suppose  that  they  are  placed  in  the  earth 
in  much  the  same  manner  as  those  of  the  aquatic  species, 
which  leave  the  water  early  in  the  spring  for  the  purpose 
of  ovipositing.  More  strangely  still,  I  have  never  found 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  253 

any  very  young  specimens  of  the  animal.  The  smallest 
box-tortoise  I  have  ever  seen  measured  something  over 
two  inches  in  length,  or  about  one  third  the  size  of  a 
full-grown  specimen.  Considering  the  number  of  adult 
tortoises  seen,  this  is  the  more  remarkable,  and  I  am  led 
to  suppose  that  when  very  young  they  frequent  localities 
different  from  those  in  which  I  have  chanced  to  ramble. 

There  is  a  second  species  of  land-tortoise  occasionally 
found  in  central  ISTew  Jersey,  known  as  Blanding's  tor- 
toise. It  is  a  very  different  creature  in  every  way,  and 
the  two  specimens  that  I  have  found  were  as  fierce  and 
snappish  as  the  preceding  was  mild  and  inoffensive. 
Both  specimens  were  found  in  high,  dry,  upland  woods, 
though,  as  a  rule,  they  are  supposed  to  frequent  damp, 
swampy  localities.  Beyond  its  exhibitions  of  temper  I 
learned  nothing  of  its  habits. 

In  the  high  and  dry  woods  it  is  quite  unlikely  that 
any  other  species  will  be  found.  If  a  running  brook  be 
near  by,  all  the  aquatic  species  will  at  times  be  found, 
throughout  the  early  spring,  on  their  way  to  suitable 
spots  wherein  to  lay  their  eggs ;  but  their  sojourn  in  such 
a  locality  is  temporary,  lasting  but  little  if  any  longer  than 
a  month.  All  the  turtles,  except  the  two  mentioned,  are 
essentially  aquatic,  or  dwellers  in  such  damp  localities 
that  the  term  "  aquatic  "  is  scarcely  inappropriate. 

The  first  of  those  found,  either  in  the  water  or  in  the 
wettest  of  woodlands,  is  the  rough-backed  terrapin,  or 
"  diamond-back,"  as  it  is  more  commonly  known.  I  say 
"  first,"  because  it  can  thrive  more  easily  without  access  to 
running  water  than  either  of  the  species  hereafter  men- 
tioned. This  turtle  or  terrapin,  as  it  is  more  usually 
called,  is  considered  a  great  delicacy  by  epicures,  and 
has  been  so  persistently  hunted  that  now  it  is  quite  scarce. 


254  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

I  know  a  few  wooded  nooks,  here  and  there,  where  they 
can  always  be  found,  and  for  several  years  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  meet  with  three  old  individuals  which,  in 
1874, 1  carefully  marked.  Every  summer  I  find  them,  and 
I  am  almost  persuaded  that  they  recognize  me.  There  is 
in  this  secluded  haunt  of  these  turtles  a  bubbling  spring, 
which  gives  them  water  enough  for  a  bath,  though  it  is  not 
deep  enough  to  afford  them  the  luxury  of  a  good  dive  and 
a  swim,  such  as  delight  those  that  live  in  the  meadows. 
So  far  as  I  could  determine,  these  turtles  ate  animal  food 
exclusively,  and  appeared  to  burrow  in  the  mud  about  the 
spring  for  grubs,  earth-worms,  and  such  animal  life  as  there 
abounded.  That  certain  plants,  also,  were  eaten,  is  prob- 
able, but  I  never  saw  them  in  the  act  of  eating  any  vege- 
table matter.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  how  little  can  be 
learned  from  watching  turtles.  1  have  often  sat  for  an 
hour  or  more,  painfully  quiet,  in  hopes  that  the  turtles  be- 
fore me  would  go  foraging,  or  at  least  ignore  my  presence 
and  act  as  if  alone,  but  usually  without  success.  Once 
aware  that  a  possible  enemy  is  near,  and  the  turtles  will 
remain  as  quiet  as  you  aim  to  be.  The  most  that  can 
be  expected,  is  to  come  upon  them  suddenly  when  busy 
feeding  or  otherwise  engaged.  Then,  possibly,  they  will 
not  desist  at  once,  and  you  may  have  a  chance  to  make  a 
note  of  what  you  saw.  Years  in  this  way  may  roll  by, 
and  at  the  last  you  will  find  yourself  quite  unprepared  to 
say  much  about  them.  This,  I  regret  to  say,  has  been  my 
experience.  In  the  "  American  Naturalist "  for  March, 
1870,  the  method  of  depositing  the  eggs  of  the  female 
rough-backed  terrapin  is  thus  described  :  "  The  animal 
dug  a  circular  ditch  about  thirteen  inches  in  diameter, 
heaping  the  dirt  in  the  center,  and  then  threw  out  this 
pile  of  loose  earth  until  the  hole  was  about  six  inches 
deep.  In  this  depression  was  deposited  eighteen  eggs, 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  255 

which  were  carefully  covered  and  the  earth  made  firm 
above  them."  I  have  found  many  eggs  of  turtles  in  the 
earth  of  recently-plowed  fields,  but  never  witnessed  the 
animal  in  the  act  of  preparing  the  ground  or  depositing 
the  eggs.  That  all  turtles  exercise  about  the  same  care 
as  does  the  rough-backed  terrapin,  is  probable. 

Quite  early  in  autumn  these  turtles  go  into  winter-quar- 
ters, which  in  some  instances  is  in  the  mud  in  immediate 
proximity  to  springs.  Here  the  water  keeps  the  earth  at 
a  uniform  temperature,  and  free  from  ice  even  in  the 
severest  weather.  Early  in  April  the  long  sleep  is  ended, 
and  quite  limp,  and  I  judge  very  hungry,  out  come  the 
turtles  and  live  on  sunshine  for  many  days.  By  the  be- 
ginning of  May,  however,  they  seem  to  regain  their 
vigor  and  appetite,  for  then  they  have  been  seen  to  dive 
upon  the  little  cricket-frogs,  or  "  peepers,"  which  swarm 
by  thousands  in  the  meadows  and  swampy  sink-holes  in 
the  uplands. 

Muhlenberg's  turtle  is  an  exceedingly  dull-colored, 
unattractive  species,  having  no  bright  points  or  lines  to 
relieve  the  uniform  brown-black  of  its  upper  shell.  The 
species  may  be  at  once  recognized,  however,  by  the  large, 
usually  confluent,  bright  orange  spots  on  the  back  of  its 
neck.  Nothing  at  all  similar  to  these  spots  is  found  on 
any  other  of  our  American  turtles. 

Early  in  May,  1881,  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  find  two 
pairs  of  these  rare  turtles.  They  were  in  the  mud  of  a 
shallow  ditch  in  the  meadow.  Their  movements,  when 
discovered,  were  exceedingly  sluggish.  They  made  no 
effort  to  escape,  and  when  handled  offered  no  resistance. 
On  the  contrary,  each  withdrew  its  head,  feet,  and  tail 
within  its  shell,  making  a  scarcely  audible  hissing  sound 
as  it  did  so. 

These  four  specimens  I  kept  in  captivity  for  a  short 


256  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

time,  and  then  placed  them  in  the  Museum  of  Compara- 
tive Zoology,  at  Cambridge,  Massachusetts.  Before  part- 
ing with  them,  I  determined  conclusively  that  these  tur- 
tles possessed  well-defined  vocal  powers ;  but  I  have  not 
been  able  to  learn  that  in  their  new  home  they  ever  ex- 
ercised them  in  the  hearing  of  their  custodian.  To  this 
subject  I  will  return. 

In  May,  1882.  my  son  found  a  single  specimen  of 
these  turtles  in  a  small  swamp.  It  was  crawling  at  the 
time  on  the  muddy  margin  of  a  spring  brook.  This 
specimen  was  placed  in  an  inclosure  about  six  feet  square, 
in  which  was  a  shallow  basin,  filled  with  water,  sunk  to 
the  level  of  the  ground.  This  basin  of  water  wras  at  once 
discovered  by  the  turtle,  and  straightway  occupied,  to  its 
evident  satisfaction.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  the 
turtle  became  quite  ill  at  ease,  and  wandered  restlessly 
about,  anxiously  looking  for  some  opening  in  the  pen — 
as  I  thought — through  which  it  might  escape.  Finally, 
it  dug  a  shallow  hole  in  one  corner  of  the  inclosure,  and 
sat  therein  much  of  the  time.  I  had  hopes  that  it  would 
burrow  deeply,  and  thus  make  an  effort  to  escape ;  but  it 
did  not  seem  dispossd  to  do  so,  although  the  earth  was  a 
loose  sand,  through  which  a  land-tortoise  could  have  made 
rapid  progress.  I  therefore  incline  to  believe  that  in 
winter  these  turtles  hibernate  in  the  mud,  beneath  the 
water  of  ditches  or  ponds,  rather  than  bury  themselves 
in  higher  and  drier  localities. 

Ten  days  later  my  son  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
a  pair  of  these  turtles,  in  the  same  meadow-ditch  from 
which  I  had  taken  my  specimens  the  preceding  summer. 
These  turtles  were  evidently  mated.  They  certainly 
were  very  affectionate,  and  remained  constantly  together. 
Here  it  may  be  well  to  refer  to  a  passage  in  Agassiz's 
monograph  on  our  turtles.  On  page  300,  he  remarks: 


SHORT  STUDIES   OF  TURTLES.  257 

"  The  legs  " — of  turtles — "  which,  as  in  lizards,  seem  to 
be  subservient  only  to  locomotion,  perform,  in  addition, 
functions  which  we  would  hardly  suppose  in  these  ani- 
mals. Professor  Jeffries  Wyman  had  once  the  rare  op- 
portunity of  watching  two  painted  turtles  while  making 
love,  and  he  saw  the  male  caressing  and  patting  the  head 
of  the  female  with  its  fore-feet  for  several  minutes." 

On  the  3d  of  June,  my  son  found  a  second  pair  of 
these  turtles.  I  had  now  live  individuals  in  the  inclosure 
referred  to.  The  small  basin,  which  was  kept  well  filled 
with  water,  was  the  point  of  attraction  of  their  cramped 
surroundings.  It  was  continually  occupied  by  three  of 
them,  as  there  was  no  room  for  the  others;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  others  closely  watched  the  occupants  of 
the  basin,  and  promptly  took  their  places  when  they  ven- 
tured forth  for  a  stroll  about  the  pen.  It  was  a  contest 
between  the  "ins"  and  the  "outs"  the  while;  but,  so 
far  as  I  could  discover,  was  carried  on  quite  good-na- 
turedly. Nothing  like  fighting  was  noticed,  although  I 
closely  observed  them — myself  unseen  by  them — daily, 
for  a  long  time.  Their  appreciation  of  the  little  basin 
of  water  quite  convinced  me  that  these  turtles  are  essen- 
tially aquatic,  and  not  a  "  wood-tortoise,"  as  they  are 
called  in  the  text-books.  Two,  probably  three,  of  the 
five  individuals  were  females,  but  no  eggs  were  deposited, 
nor  did  I  find  any  evidences  of  digging  in  the  inclosure, 
as  though  a  desire  for  ovipositing  possessed  them.  The 
breeding  habits  of  Muhlenberg's  turtle  are,  I  presume, 
essentially  the  same  as  those  of  the  rough-backed  ter- 
rapin, the  nearest  allied  species.  This  common  turtle 
digs  a  hole  some  six  or  eight  inches  in  depth,  and  twice 
this  measurement  in  diameter.  The  bottom  is  patted 
down  with  the  fore-feet  until  quite  firm.  In  this  excava- 
tion the  eggs  are  deposited,  and  subsequently  very  neatly 


258  EAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

covered  by  the  loose  earth  which  had  been  removed.  In 
fact,  nearly  every  trace  of  an  excavation  having  been 
made  is  carefully  removed. 

As  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  Muhlenberg  turtles,  ex- 
cept in  early  summer,  I  am  wholly  "  at  sea."  For  many 
years  I  never  saw  a  specimen  at  any  time,  and  my  ex- 
periences of  the  past  two  years  cover  only  the  months  of 
May  and  June.  That  they  are  not  in  the  same  shallow 
ditches  later  in  the  summer,  wherein  both  my  son  and 
I  found  them  in  May,  I  am  very  positive.  That  they 
are  wandering  about  the  woods,  howsoever  damp  they 
may  be,  seems  to  me  quite  improbable.  I  have  instituted 
such  careful  search  for  them  in  the  very  localities  where, 
if  wood-haunters,  they  would  surely  be,  that  it  is  incredi- 
ble that  any  of  them  should  have  been  overlooked.  In- 
deed, the  five  specimens  captured  during  the  past  summer 
were  liberated  June  15th,  and  placed  in  a  small  brook 
that  ran  through  a  low-lying,  densely-wooded  valley. 
Up  to  the  present  time  (August)  no  trace  of  them  has 
been  discovered.  Were  damp  woods  the  summer  haunts 
of  these  turtles,  they  would  certainly  not  have  wandered 
far  away  ;  and  I  doubt  their  being  possessed  of  sufficient 
cunning  to  elude  my  eager  search  for  them.  But  one 
other  locality  suggests  itself,  and  this  is  the  deeper 
waters  of  the  tide-water  creeks,  and  those  swamps  that 
are  deep  by  reason  of  quicksands.  Here,  it  may  be,  the 
summers  and  winters  of  this  turtle  are  passed.  Indeed, 
I  found  that  the  Muhlenberg  turtles  that  I  kept  in  con- 
finement could  readily  remain  under  the  surface  of  the 
water  in  an  aquarium  for  several  hours  without  apparent 
inconvenience ;  and  when,  later,  an  individual  of  this 
species  was  associated  with  one  each  of  the  mud-turtle, 
the  painted  turtle,  and  the  spotted  turtle,  in  an  aquarium, 
the  Muhlenberg  proved  to  be  as  active  a  swimmer,  and 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  259 

remained  voluntarily  as  long  beneath  the  surface,  as  any 
of  the  others.  In  fact,  in  its  movements  and  degree  of 
activity,  it  most  closely  resembled  the  mud-turtle,  which 
is  so  essentially  an  aquatic  species.  Referring  to  the 
respiration  of  turtles,  Professor  Agassiz  remarks :  "  In 
mud  and  soft-shelled  turtles,  the  lungs  being  much  re- 
duced in  size  and  importance,  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
the  respiration  must  be  performed  by  the  skin  of  the 
whole  body,  which  is  much  thinner  in  these  families  than 
in  other  turtles;  while,  on  the  contrary,  in  ...  the 
Testudo  (box-tortoise)  the  powers  of  respiration  are  no 
doubt  performed  entirely  by  the  lungs  "  (loc.  cit.,  p.  276). 
In  the  case  of  the  Muhlenberg  turtle  the  skin  is  not  thick, 
but,  being  greatly  wrinkled,  appears  so ;  and  the  lungs 
are,  I  believe,  of  about  the  same  size  as  those  of  the 
strictly  aquatic  species.  Certainly  they  are  very  little 
larger,  and  correspond  more  nearly  to  those  of  the  snap- 
per than  to  the  terrestrial  box-tortoise.  Therefore,  I  am 
disposed  to  consider,  and  feel  little  hesitancy  in  asserting, 
that  the  Muhlenberg  turtle  is  essentially  an  aquatic  spe- 
cies. 

A  few  words  concerning  the  vocal  powers  of  this 
turtle.  In  brief  articles  on  the  habits  of  our  turtles, 
published  in  years  past,  I,  have  mentioned  the  voice  of 
the  common  snapping-turtle.  Since  then,  I  have  been 
fortunate  enough  to  hear  this  same  turtle  make  similar 
sounds  in  its  native  haunts.  In  every  case  they  were 
made  at  night ;  but  my  opportunities  were  such  that  I 
am  quite  positive  that  the  sound  heard  and  the  turtle 
seen  were  correctly  associated. 

In  the  often  -  mentioned  monograph  by  Professor 
Agassiz,  that  author  remarks  :  "  Turtles  have  a  voice. 
Though  I  have  myself  made  this  observation  only  in  a 
few  species,  namely,  in  Emys  elegans,  serrata,  picta,  and 


260  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 


td)  which  emit  a  piping  note  ;  and  in  Chelonia 
mydas,  whose  voice  resembles  somewhat  a  quaint,  low 
bark;  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  all  of  them  have, 
more  or  less,  the  faculty  of  emitting  distinct  sounds" 
(loc.  cit.,  p.  284).  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  our 
turtles  should  have  voices,  for  they  are  by  no  means  such 
sluggish,  indolent  creatures  as  is  supposed  by  those  who 
have  only  observed  them  indifferently  or  from  afar  off. 
I  have  frequently  seen  them  get  up  a  "  square  fight  "  over 
some  delicate  morsel,  as  a  dead  fish  or  drowned  squirrel  ; 
and  again,  while  peering  over  the  side  of  my  boat  into  the 
clear  depths  below,  I  have  watched  the  spotted  turtles, 
two  and  three  together,  go  through  a  variety  of  erratic 
movements,  strongly  suggestive  of  play.  Even  the  soli- 
tary land-tortoises,  when  they  meet,  will  gently  touch 
their  noses  and  go  through  other  movements  indicative 
of  the  exchange  of  ideas.  Indeed,  I  have  never  seen  any 
animal  as  high  in  the  scale  of  development  as  fishes,  that 
did  not  possess  some  means  of  communicating  its  ideas 
to  its  fellows.  In  no  other  way  can  many  of  the  acts  of 
these  animals  be  explained. 

To  return  to  the  turtles.  In  May,  1881,  my  first 
specimen  of  Muhlenberg  turtle  was  kept  in  a  small  vessel 
of  water,  for  several  days,  in  a  darkened  room.  Twice, 
while  in  the  room,  I  heard  it  utter  a  shrill  note,  which 
may  be  represented  by  the  syllables  pree-eak,  twice  or 
thrice  repeated  ;  the  last  time  less  distinctly  than  the 
previous  utterances.  To  make  it  the  more  certain  that 
the  first  utterance  was  not  wrongly  attributed  to  the  tur- 
tle, I  caused  a  ray  of  light  to  be  thrown  upon  the  vessel 
containing  the  animal,  and  I  remained  in  the  dark,  but 
quite  near  at  hand.  I  could  plainly  see  every  movement 
of  the  turtle,  but  do  not  think  I  was  seen  by  it.  After 
the,  lapse  of  half  an  hour  after  the  first  utterance  heard9  I 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  261 

saw  the  turtle  come  to  the  surface,  and  crane  its  neck  as 
far  out  of  the  water  as  possible.  Opening  its  mouth 
widely,  it  made  the.  same  utterance,  and  repeated  it,  after 
an  interval  of  probably  ten  seconds.  The  sound  was 
different  from  that  of  the  snapper,  but  the  movements 
accompanying  the  utterances  wrere  identical.  Since  then, 
I  have  not  been  able  to  detect  any  evidence  of  vocal 
powers ;  but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  in  my  sub- 
sequent studies  of  these  turtles  I  had  several  associated ; 
and  if,  as  I  suppose,  the  note  I  heard  is  really  a  "  call," 
then  it  would  only  be  uttered  by  solitary  individuals, 
when  in  search  of  a  mate. 

Early  in  summer,  if  at  no  other  time,  the  voice  of  the 
turtle  is  heard  in  the  land. 

The  pretty  speckled  turtle  next  commands  our  atten- 
tion, and  although  a  very  abundant  species,  it  may  yet 
be  studied  to  advantage  without  fear  of  repetition,  as 
there  remains  much  to  be  said  as  to  its  habits. 

This  turtle  is  at  once  recognized  by  its  jet-black  shell, 
sparsely  sprinkled  with  small,  round,  bright-yellow  spots. 
It  can  never  be  mistaken  for  any  other  species.  Strictly 
aquatic  in  habit,  it  favors  quiet  waters,  and  is  essentially 
inactive  except  during  the  breeding  season.  Then  it  is 
very  restless,  and  comes  into  ditches  where  it  is  not  only 
impossible  to  swim,  but  where  the  water  is  so  shallow 
that  its  shell  is  exposed  as  it  crawls  over  the  mud.  At 
such  times  they  are  found  in  pairs,  and  are  very  demon- 
strative. However  inert  they  may  appear  at  other  times, 
they  are,  throughout  the  month  of  May,  more  like  all  the 
rest  of  animated  nature,  and  they  then  give  evidence  of 
capabilities  of  exertion  not  apparent  during  the  summer 
and  autumn. 

Like  all  the  turtles,  when  the  weather  has  become 
fairly  warm,  and  the  surface  soil  has  lost  much  of  the 


262  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

dampness  of  melted  snows  and  spring  rains,  this  species 
is  found  wending  its  way  to  the  upland  fields,  in  search 
of  suitable  places  for  depositing  its  eggs.  That  the  same 
spots  are  frequented,  year  after  year,  is  not  probable.  I 
have  often  marked  turtles  that  I  have  found  in  May,  in 
sandy  fields,  in  hopes  that  at  the  same  time  in  succeeding 
years  I  might  again  see  them  ;  but  in  no  instance  have  I 
been  successful.  "While  these  animals  remain  in  the  same 
pond  or  creek  throughout  their  lives,  as  I  have  proved 
by  many  experiments,  it  would  seem  that,  unlike  many 
birds,  they  seldom,  or  only  by  chance,  deposit  their  eggs 
in  the  same  place.  The  distance  from  water  of  the  locali- 
ties chosen  for  ovipositing  varies  greatly,  and  this  would 
seem  to  indicate  that  great  care  is  exercised  in  choosing 
the  site  for  this  purpose.  Often  I  have  found  these  tur- 
tles wandering  over  hot,  dusty  fields,  that  had  been  re- 
cently plowed,  where  every  square  foot  for  acres  seemed 
well  suited  to  their  purpose ;  and  still  on  they  went  into 
apparently  less  favorable  fields,  where  they  halted,  per- 
haps half  a  mile  from  water.  It  is  proper,  however,  to 
add  that  I  have  never  found  their  eggs  at  a  greater  dis- 
tance than  this  from  the  streams  or  ponds  which  the 
species  frequents  during  the  summer. 

To  what  extent  these  turtles  are  active,  and  how  they 
pass  their  time  when  in  the  water,  I  am  not  prepared  to 
say ;  but  on  bright  days  they  are  fond  of  basking  in  the 
noon-day  sun,  and,  in  company  with  the  larger  red-bellied 
turtles,  they  are  often  found  resting  on  a  floating  log,  or 
perched  upon  a  projecting  stump.  At  such  times  they 
are  quick  to  scent  danger,  or  hear  it,  and  when  ap- 
proached they  promptly  slide  from  the  log  or  stump 
into  the  depths  below.  Their  eyes  and  ears  are  then 
depended  upon ;  "  the  sense  of  seeing,"  according  to 
Professor  Agassiz,  "and  particularly  that  of  hearing, 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  263 

being  highly  developed,  .  .  .  the  sense  of  smell  much 
less  so." 

The  sense  of  seeing  is  not  only  highly  developed  for 
the  needs  of  the  day,  but  it  is  also  available  for  wandering 
and  hunting  at  night.  From  the  fact  that  I  have  fre- 
quently found  them  moving  about  at  that  time,  I  judge 
that  their  vision  is  largely  like  that  of  the  owls.  Cer- 
tainly, during  moonlight  nights  aquatic  turtles  of  all 
kinds  can  be  found  more  frequently  than  during  the 
day. 

Fully  as  common,  and  far  more  handsome  than  the 
preceding,  is  the  pretty  painted  turtle.  The  beautifully 
variegated  shell — red,  yellow,  and  blue-black — of  this  spe- 
cies makes  it  a  very  prominent  object  in  the  assembled 
attractions  of  a  clear,  sandy-bottomed  pond ;  and  though 
it  frequently  dwells  throughout  its  long  life  in  the  mud- 
diest, gloomiest  ponds  of  marshy,  weed-grown  meadows, 
yet  I  am  persuaded  that  it  prefers  clear  waters,  where  its 
bright  colors  show  to  advantage.  In  the  month  of  May, 
a  pair  of  these  turtles  can  not  be  observed  for  any  length 
of  time  without  showing  conclusively  that  these  bright 
colors  are  appreciated  among  themselves,  and  that  sexual 
selection  has  been  the  potent  factor  in  the  evolution  of 
these  prominent  markings  of  the  shell.  An  interesting 
fact,  in  connection  with  this  phase  of  bright  coloration,  is 
that  the  painted  turtle  is  much  more  diurnal  in  its  habits 
than  any  other  of  the  aquatic  species  found  in  this  vicin- 
ity. It  is  possible  that  this  assertion  may  be  claimed 
as  mere  fancy  on  my  part ;  but  I  do  not  fear  the  result 
if  any  of  my  readers  will  follow  these  turtles  closely  for 
weeks  and  months.  It  is  only  by  such  means  that  they  can 
be  successfully  studied ;  and  the  inference  I  have  drawn, 
based  upon  hundreds  of  observations,  is,  as  I  have  stated, 


264:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

that  this  turtle  is  more  diurnal  in  its  habits  than  any  of  the 
others.  Whether  this  fact  and  that  of  the  bright  colora- 
tion of  its  shell  have  any  connection,  must  be  decided  by 
each  one  for  himself.  My  own  conviction  is,  that  they 
are  closely  related. 

The  large  red-bellied  turtle,  which  formerly  was  the 
most  abundant  of  all  our  aquatic  species,  has  of  late 
proved  to  be  quite  rare.  In  quiet  ponds  and  sluggish 
creeks,  if  shaded  by  heavy  growths  of  timber,  nothing  was 
more  common  than  to  see  scores  of  these  black-backed 
turtles,  perched  upon  every  projecting  stump  and  floating 
fragment  of  wood.  Here,  apparently,  the  live-long  day 
they  would  quietly  rest,  never,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  volun- 
arily  returning  to  the  muddy  depths  from  which  they 
had  come.  They  were  ever  on  the  alert,  however,  and 
although  I  often  approached  them  carefully,  yet  they 
always  knew  of  my  coming,  and  with  a  gentle  gliding 
motion  they  passed  so  quietly  into  the  water  that  scarce- 
ly a  ripple  was  caused  by  the  movement.  In  midsum- 
mer they  remained  on  their  floating  perches  far  into  the 
night,  and  I  often  wondered  when  they  sought  their 
food — if,  indeed,  they  ever  did  anything  but  float  about 
lonesome  waters  on  rotten  logs,  or  pass  their  time  in 
quiet  contemplation,  perched  upon  every  convenient  pro- 
jecting stump. 

These  were  the  thoughts  of  thirty  years  ago,  but  since 
then  I  have  had  too  few  opportunities  to  study  them 
more  closely. 

De  Kay  says  of  them,  "  They  are  brought  to  our  mar- 
kets— New  York  city — from  New  Jersey,  where  they  are 
very  numerous  in  running  streams.  As  an  article  of  food 
they  are  equally  prized  with  the  preceding"  (rough- 
backed  terrapin).  Probably  the  fact  that  they  are  so 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  265 

prized  as  an  article  of  food  has  had  much  to  do  with 
their  gradual  disappearance  in  many  localities  where  they 
were  once  abundant. 

Of  its  habits  generally,  I  am  ashamed  to  admit,  I  know 
nothing. 

Modern  civilization,  fortunately,  has  not  as  yet  devised 
any  means  of  utilizing  the  unattractive  mud-turtle ;  so 
they  remain,  as  of  yore,  fairly  abundant  in  all  muddy 
streams,  ponds,  and  ditches.  I  know  those  best  which 
frequent  the  ditches  in  my  meadows.  These  ditches  are 
now  quite  like  natural  water-courses,  by  virtue  of  the 
green  banks  and  weedy  growths  which  all  summer  choke 
the  sluggish  current "  that  passes  slowly  through  them. 
Through  these  weeds,  and  in  the  foot  or  more  of  mud 
that  sustains  their  growth,  these  turtles,  "mud-diggers" 
as  the  boys  call  them,  pass  their  seemingly  monotonous 
lives,  seldom  poking  their  noses  above  the  surface.  Of 
course,  in  spring,  they  take  an  overland  journey  to  some 
sunny,  sandy  field  to  lay  their  eggs.  Having  accom- 
plished this,  they  hasten  back  to  their  proper  homes,  and 
this  is  the  extent  of  their  travels.  Do  they  cogitate,  on 
their  return,  over  what  they  saw  in  the  outside  world? 
They  have  little  brains,  to  be  sure,  but  as  they  often  prove 
that  they  have  a  modicum  of  common-sense,  it  is  not 
altogether  impossible. 

Unlike  the  preceding  species  of  aquatic  turtles,  this 
one  shuns  the  sunlight,  and  keeps  closely  to  the  deepest 
holes  that  it  can  find.  Here  they  dwell  in  company, 
often  a  hundred  or  more  together,  remaining  throughout 
the  day  comparatively  quiet.  At  night,  however,  they 
are  fairly  active,  and,  guided  by  the  sense  of  smell,  they 
hunt  for  such  animal  food  as  may  chance  to  be  available. 
I  say  active  at  night  and  passive  by  day,  for,  when  fishing 
12 


266  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

in  the  daytime,  I  have  caught  them  but  very  seldom 
when  compared  with  the  frequency  with  which  I  have 
taken  the  odoriferous  musk-turtle ;  but  when  bobbing  for 
eels,  or  fishing  at  night,  I  have  often  been  disgusted  at 
the  way  in  which  they  seized  my  hooks.  From  this  sim- 
ple fact,  I  believe  that  they  are  more  strictly  nocturnal 
than  the  other  mud-turtle  just  mentioned.  Here,  again, 
the  subject  of  color  comes  to  the  front.  This  nocturnal 
mud-turtle  has  not  a  vestige  of  beauty  about  it.  It  is  su- 
perlatively homely,  and  so  it  is  fitting  that  it  should  be 
nocturnal  in  habit.  Possibly,  it  has  greater  vocal  powers 
than  the  others,  but  this  I  can  not  say.  Now,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  strongly-scented  musk-turtle,  popularly 
known  by  an  expressive  but  scarcely  mentionable  name, 
is  quite  handsomely  marked  with  lines  of  brilliant  yel- 
low on  a  black  background ;  and,  furthermore,  although 
a  mud-turtle,  it  is  quite  diurnal  in  its  habits,  and  even 
wanders  into  the  clear  waters,  where  it  can  exhibit  its  at- 
tractions to  the  best  advantage.  It  can  scarcely  be  mere 
coincidence,  that  bright  colors  and  diurnal  habits  always 
go  together. 

A  curious  appearance  is  given  to  these  mud-turtles,  at 
times,  by  the  growth  of  a  grass-like  plant  over  their  upper 
shells,  which  gently  waves  to  and  fro  in  the  water  as 
they  move  along.  This  plant  does  not  seem  to  be  affected 
by  the  habit  of  the  turtle  of  burrowing  in  the  mud.  It, 
thrives  even  there,  and  when  the  animal  emerges  from 
its  burrow  the  plant  is  quickly  freed  of  all  foreign  mat- 
ter by  the  water,  and  waves  as  freely  and  is  as  brightly 
green  as  before.  This  same  growth  is  common  also  to 
tfye  fierce  snapping-turtle,  of  which  more  anon. 

Mud-turtles  are  mere  scavengers.  Those  that  I  have 
kept  in  aquaria  would  never  take  living  prey ;  but  no 
sooner  was  the  fish  or  frog  killed  than  they  would  devour 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  267 

it  greedily.  Even  when  snappers  set  them  the  example, 
they  seemed  willing  to  remain  hungry  rather  than  seize  a 
fish  while  yet  a  spark  of  life  remained.  When,  however, 
a  dead  fish  was  placed  before  several  of  these  mud-tur- 
tles in  a  small  aquarium,  their  mental  powers  were  read- 
ily brought  into  play  J  and  eacli  turtle,  in  the  endeavor 
to  appropriate  the  entire  fish  to  itself,  would  bid  defiance 
to  its  neighbors.  In  one  instance,  the  largest  turtle  cov- 
ered the  fish  with  its  shell  and  endeavored  to  keep  the 
others  off,  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  tried  to  get  an 
occasional  bite  at  the  jealously-guarded  tidbit.  In  this 
manoeuvre  it  was  not  successful ;  and  it  was  quite  evident, 
from  the  free  fight  that  ensued,  that  their  distant  kinship 
to  man  is  no  theory,  but  a  demonstrable  fact,  if  their  ex- 
hibition of  anger  and  the  very  human-like  way  in  which 
they  fought  has  any  bearing  on  the  question.  If,  how- 
ever, there  is  nothing  for  them  to  quarrel  about,  they  are 
as  peaceful  as  lambs. 

When  it  is  said  of  the  musk-turtle  that  it  is  not  so 
strictly  a  mud-loving  species  as  the  foregoing,  and  that 
it  is  almost  as  active  by  day  as  by  night,  we  have  about 
covered  the  ground,  so  far  as  its  habits  are  known.  In  all 
respects,  it  is  like  the  other  water-turtles  as  they  appear 
to  the  casual  observer.  There  are  some  points  of  inter- 
est connected  with  it,  however,  which  may  properly  be 
noted.  According  to  Professor  Agassi z,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  snapper,  none  of  the  turtles  that  I  have  men- 
tioned catch  active  prey,  or  are  in  a»y  way  ferocious  ; 
they  are,  indeed,  entirely  harmless,  and  "  only  when  hard 
pressed,  defend  themselves  by  biting.  Their  food  is  both 
vegetable  and  animal ;  the  latter  they  tear  with  their 
jaws,  holding  it  down  when  necessary  with  their  fore- 
feet." Another  exception  to  this  generalization  is  that 


268  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  this  musk  or  stinking  turtle.  In  an  early  volume  of 
the  "  American  Naturalist  "  I  referred  to  this  species  as 
follows,  in  connection  with  the  habits  of  a  curious  little 
fish,  the  mud-minnow :  I  remarked  that  these  minnows 
are  exposed  to  attacks  from  a  voracious  animal,  which 
takes  advantage  of  the  habit  of  the  minnow  of  lying 
more  than  half  buried  in  the  mud.  The  musk-turtle  is 
able  to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  the  mud-minnow 
without  alarming  the  fish,  and,  cautiously  approaching 
from  behind,  seizes  it  by  the  head.  This  they  generally 
completely  sever  from  the  body,  and  then  draw  from  the 
mud  the  decapitated  body. 

I  have  lately  had  specimens  of  these  turtles  in  an 
aquarium,  in  which  I  placed  a  number  of  mud-minnows  ; 
and  have  seen  the  turtles  time  and  again  seize  the  fish 
with  all  the  dexterity  and  quickness  of  a  snapper.  I  be- 
lieve this  habit  has  gradually  come  about  much  in  the 
following  way :  These  mud-minnows  have  a  curious 
habit  of  assuming  the  strangest  positions,  often  quite 
unlifelike,  and  maintain  them  for  many  minutes  at  a  time. 
They  might  readily  be  mistaken  for  bent  twTigs  or  life- 
less, distorted  fish.  Under  these  circumstances,  a  prowl- 
ing musk-turtle,  seeing  a  mud-minnow  which  it  supposed 
to  be  dead,  might  snap  at  it  in  a  somewhat  leisurely  way 
and  succeed  in  seizing  it.  More  frequently,  however,  it 
would  fail  in  the  effort.  Want  of  success  would,  how- 
ever, insure  greater  caution  and  quicker  movements  on 
the  part  of  the  turtle,  and  finally  result  in  establishing  the 
method  of  stealthy  approach  and  quick  snap  that  charac- 
terizes the  true  snapping-turtle.  Whether  this  explains 
the  origin  of  the  habit  or  not,  certain  it  is  that  the  musk- 
turtle  does  now  seize  active,  living  prey,  and  that  it  exer- 
cises much  caution  in  approaching,  and  dexterity  in  seiz- 
ing it. 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  269 

The  last  of  the  series  of  ten  species  of  turtles  found  in 
this  vicinity,  but  by  no  means  the  least,  is  the  ferocious 
snapper. 

This  is  our  largest  and  fiercest  turtle.  In  many  ways 
it  differs  materially  from  all  the  others.  The  common 
name  "  snapper  "  is  derived  from  the  manner  in  which 
it  seizes  its  prey.  This  snapping  movement  is  not, 
strictly  speaking,  confined  to  this  species,  as  has  been 
shown,  but  it  is  intensified,  as  it  were,  among  them,  and 
is  withal  so  sudden  and  effective  that  it  dwarfs  all  like 
efforts  on  the  part  of  the  other  species.  When  a  fish  is 
seen  approaching,  the  snapper,  even  in  the  close  confines 
of  an  aquarium,  withdraws  its  head,  and  at  the  same  time 
elevates  its  body  by  its  fore-feet ;  then,  if  the  fish  comes 
near  enough,  the  neck  of  the  snapper  is  suddenly  length- 
ened, its  body  thrown  forward,  and  the  fish  seized. 
Once  let  the  powerful  jaws  close  upon  the  victim,  and 
nothing  can  force  the  turtle  to  relax  its  hold. 

Fish  are  not,  however,  the  only  food  of  the  snappers, 
as  they  do  not  hesitate  to  attack  anything  in  the  way  of 
beast  or  bird  that  they  can  seize,  and  if  they  succeed  in 
drowning  the  animal  that  they  have  caught,  they  soon 
make  a  meal  of  it.  I  have  known  a  quite  small  snapper 
to  seize  a  full-grown  musk-rat  by  a  hind  leg  and  drag  it 
into  deep  water,  where  I  suppose  it  was  held  until 
drowned.  Certainly,  numbers  of  young  ducks  are  annu- 
ally destroyed  by  these  voracious  creatures. 

When  on  land,  the  snapper  seems  to  be  quite  at  home, 
although  his  movements  are  very  awkward  in  appearance. 
They  are  not,  however,  really  so,  as  their  rate  of  travel 
overland  is  greater  than  that  of  any  other  of  the  strictly 
aquatic  species  of  turtle.  The  late  Dr.  Holbrook,  in  his 
rt  American  Herpetology,"  says,  the  snapper  "  moves 
along  with  head  and  neck  stretched  out,  moving  them  to 


270  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

and  fro  as  he  proceeds,  as  though  inspecting  the  ground 
as  he  goes.  His  walk  is  said  to  resemble  that  of  our 
alligator;  like  them,  falling  now  and  then  on  his  sternum 
to  rest,  and  then  proceeding." 

In  New  Jersey  these  turtles  vary,  in  successive  years, 
as  to  the  time  of  leaving  the  water  for  the  purpose  of 
laying  their  eggs.  I  have  occasionally  found  them  as 
early  as  the  first  week  in  April,  but  usually  not  until  a 
month  later.  My  impression  is  that  they  do  not  wander 
so  far  from  the  water,  and  are  less  particular  about  the 
localities  chosen  for  depositing  their  eggs  than  are  the 
other  turtles.  I  have  often  found  them  but  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  from  the  pond  or  creek  from  which  the 
animals  had  come.  They  dig  quite  shallow  beds,  com- 
paratively, in  sandy  soils,  and  place  therein  their  whole 
complement  of  eggs.  Once  laid,  no  care  seems  to  be  ex- 
ercised in  covering  the  spot,  and  so  it  is  readily  found. 
Skunks  have  a  decided  liking  for  their  eggs,  and  may 
frequently  be  found,  during  moonlight  nights,  digging 
them  up.  Indeed,  in  isolated  spots,  the  skunks  will  be 
abroad  during  the  day,  and  dig  out  the  eggs  as  soon  as 
the  fierce  old  snapper  has  left  them. 

It  is  at  this  time  of  the  year  that  we  may  most  con- 
fidently expect  to  hear  the  snappers  make  that  peculiar 
sound  which  comprehends  their  entire  range  of  vocal 
powers.  It  is  a  hoarse  "  kweep,"  much  like  thac  ot  the 
Muhlenberg  turtle,  and  uttered  under  similar  circum- 
stances. In  thus  limiting  their  vocal  utterances  to  a  sin- 
gle sound  I  may  perhaps  be  somewhat  hasty,  but,  after 
years  of  patient  watching,  I  have  never  heard  any  other 
that  could  be  confidently  attributed  to  them.  Old  fisher- 
men and  snapper-hunters  have  told  me,  however,  that  they 
do  occasionally  make  a  deep  roaring  or  bellowing  sound, 
by  which  I  understand  a  roaring  sound  heard  at  a  great 


SHORT  STUDIES   OF  TURTLES.  271 

distance.  Such  a  sound  I,  too,  Lave  heard  coming,  as  I 
thought  at  the  time,  directly  from  the  water,  but  I  never 
saw  a  snapper  in  the  act  of  uttering  it ;  so  I  can  only 
mention  a  peculiar,  hoarse  note,  like  "  kweep,"  which,  to 
my  positive  knowledge,  is  often  made  by  them  early  in 
May,  or  just  previous  to  the  time  of  their  leaving  the 
water  for  the  purpose  of  depositing  their  eggs. 

No  sooner  are  the  young  snappers  free  from  the  egg- 
case  than  they  make  their  way  directly  to  the  nearest 
water,  guided,  I  suppose,  by  the  sense  of  smell.  Once 
in  their  proper  element,  and  their  activity  becomes  very 
noticeable.  All  the  day  long  they  paddle  ceaselessly 
about,  snapping  at  every  minnow  and  insect  in  and  out 
of  reach.  According  to  Professor  Agassiz,  this  snapping 
habit  commences  wonderfully  soon  in  life.  In  his  famous 
"Contributions  to  the  Natural  History  of  the  United 
States,"  he  says :  "  The  snapping  turtle  .  .  .  exhibits  .  .  . 
its  ferocious  habits  even  before  it  leaves  the  egg,  before 
it  breathes  through  lungs ;  before  its  derm  is  ossified  to 
form  a  bony  shield,  etc. ;  nay,  it  snaps  with  its  gaping 
jaws  at  anything  brought  near,  though  it  be  still  sur- 
rounded by  its  amnios  and  allantois,  and  its  yolk  still 
exceeds  in  bulk  its  whole  body."  And  again  :  "  I  have 
seen  it  snapping  in  the  same  tierce  manner  as  it  does 
when  full  grown,  at  a  time  it  was  a  pale,  colorless  embryo, 
wrapped  in  its  foetal  envelopes  .  .  .  three  months  before 
hatching."  "What,  then,  may  we  not  expect  from  this 
animal  when  it  reaches  a  foot  or  more  in  length  ?  To  it, 
indeed,  may  be  attributed  the  scarcity  of  much  of  that 
animal  life  now  frequenting  our  waters.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  snapper  seems  to  have  no  enemies  to  bother  it, 
unless  it  be  such  as  prey  upon  the  very  young.  Can  it 
be  that  their  undue  increase  is  checked  by  mammals,  like 
the  skunk,  which  hunt  and  devour  their  eggs  ?  When 


272         RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

we  consider  this  immunity  from  the  attacks  of  enemies, 
and  the  numbers  of  eggs  that  an  adult  annually  lays,  the 
number  of  snappers  found  in  any  one  locality  is  not  very 
great,  and  hence  it  is  evident  there  must  be,  somewhere, 
a  check  upon  their  increase. 

"We  might  be  led  to  suppose,  from  their  activity  and 
the  enormous  quantity  of  food  consumed,  that  the  growth 
of  the  young  snapper  was  very  rapid  for  the  first  two  or 
three  years ;  but  this  is  not  the  case.  Agassiz  determined 
that  when  a  snapper  was  six  and  one  half  inches  long,  it 
was  twelve  years  old ;  when  twelve  inches  long,  it  was 
thirty-eight  years  old.  After  twelve  years  he  states  that 
growth,  is  much  slower,  and  mentions  one  instance  of  a 
growth  of  but  one  inch  in  forty-five  years. 

I  have  not  been  able  to  learn  what  may  be  considered 
the  maximum  size  of  this  turtle.  In  fact,  there  appears 
to  be  no  limit  to  their  growth.  I  have  seen  one  specimen 
that  weighed  just  sixty  pounds,  and  have  been  told  of 
others  considerably  heavier.  Specimens  weighing  over 
thirty  pounds,  however,  are  not  common. 

A  few  words,  in  conclusion,  with  reference  to  a  habit 
common  to  all  our  turtles,  that  of  hibernation.  On  the 
approach  of  cold  weather  these  animals,  as  a  class,  are 
supposed  to  bury  themselves  deeply  in  the  mud  at  the 
bottom  of  ponds  and  streams,  and  there  to  remain  until 
every  vestige  of  winter  has  disappeared.  This  is  the 
common  impression,  though  I  question  if  it  be  strictly 
true.  Careful  examination  will  show  that  the  supposed 
torpidity  has,  in  part,  no  real  existence.  Indeed,  the 
habit  is  affected  very  materially  by  the  severity  of  the 
winter ;  for  when  there  occurs  a  very  green  Christmas, 
it  is  not  a  remarkable  occurrence  to  find  a  box-tortoise 
on  the  sunny  south  side  of  some  wooded  slope.  Languid 
and  limp,  it  may  be,  but  it  will  be  found  to  have  enough 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  273 

vitality  to  enjoy  a  midday  outing,  and  vigor  sufficient  to 
enable  it  to  return  to  its  quiet  underground  retreat 
toward  the  close  of  the  day.  In  most  ponds  of  any  con- 
siderable extent,  frequented  by  turtles,  there  are  one  or 
more  deep  holes  wherein  many  of  the  different  species 
are  found  to  take  refuge  after  the  first  hard  or  plant- 
killing  frost.  Here  they  remain,  in  the  deeper  and 
warmer  water  of  these  holes,  when  the  shallower  portions 
of  the  ponds  are  coated  with  ice.  Now,  do  they  lie  in 
the  mud  in  these  holes  in  a  torpid  condition  ? 

Throughout  the  winter,  in  these  same  deep  holes,  I 
have  found  that  many  of  our  fish  also  congregate ;  and 
the  turtles,  to  a  certain  extent,  during  the  winter  prey 
upon  these  n'sh ;  the  snappers  occasionally  catching  one, 
and  the  other  turtles  feeding  upon  the  remains  of  the 
snapper's  feast.  What  first  gave  me  this  impression  was 
the  fact  that  I  frequently  found  in  nets  set  under  the  ice, 
even  in  midwinter,  fishes  that  had  been  partially  eaten  • 
and  as  this  occurs  quite  often  in  summer,  I  took  it  for 
granted  that  the  offender — a  turtle — was  the  same  in  each 
case.  Led  by  this  inference,  I  baited  hooks  and  placed 
them  in  the  deep  holes  of  a  large  pond,  and  in  several 
instances  succeeded  in  catching  specimens  of  the  stinking 
or  musk-turtle. 

Snappers,  in  the  same  way,  have  been  caught  during 
the  severest  cold  weather,  in  the  deep  holes  in  ponds,  and 
about  large  springs  that  discharge  their  waters  on  level 
ground.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  if  the  water  re- 
mains above  the  freezing-point,  these  turtles  continue 
in  a  fairly  active  state,  even  though  they  do  not  find  any 
large  amount  of  food.  In  such  spring-holes,  the  grass 
remains  green  throughout  winter ;  a  few  frogs  linger  in 
the  waters ;  an  occasional  bittern  haunts  the  spot ;  pike, 
too,  are  not  unusual,  and  the  snapper  therefore  has  corn- 


2Y4:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

pany,  at  least,  and  occasionally  lie  makes  a  meal  of  some 
one  of  the  Lardy  visitors  which,  like  himself,  brave  the 
winter,  and  does  not  seek  to  avoid  its  rigors  by  a  pro- 
tracted, torpid  sleep  in  the  mud. 

Of  the  series  of  ten  species  of  turtles  that  I  have  men- 
tioned, some  of  them,  it  may  be,  are  so  sensitive  to  cold 
that  they  hibernate  regularly,  and  for  about  one  half  of 
the  year ;  but  in  the  case  of  the  snapper,  mud-turtle,  and 
stinking  or  musk-turtle,  the  habit  at  best  is  neither  gen- 
eral nor  regular.  And  yet  it  is  probable  that  these 
three  species,  though  they  do  not  hibernate  regularly,  yet 
do  so  when  cut  off  from  access  to  the  atmosphere  by  the 
growth  of  thick  ice ;  for,  while  these  turtles  can  stay 
under  the  water  for  a  comparatively  long  time,  yet,  if  all 
their  other  functions  are  active,  respiration  must  neces- 
sarily be  active  also ;  and  it  is  questionable  how  long  they 
can  live  without  access  to  the  air,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that,  like  the  frogs,  they  can  absorb  sufficient  air 
through  their  skins,  and  so  remain  beneath  the  surface 
for  a  long  time,  if  the  water  be  thoroughly  aerated.  In 
Agassiz's  monograph  on  our  turtles  occurs  the  following 
sentence :  "  In  mud  and  soft-shelled  turtles,  the  lungs 
being  much  reduced  in  size  and  importance,  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  respiration  must  be  performed  by 
the  skin  of  the  whole  body,  which  is  much  thinner 
in  these  families  than  in  other  turtles;  while,  on  the 
contrary,  in.  .  .  the  Cistudo  (box-tortoise)  the  powers 
of  respiration  are  no  doubt  performed  entirely  by  the 
lungs." 

In  the  case  of  skin-respiration  by  the  frog,  Professor 
Semper  has  stated,  in  his  volume  entitled  "  Animal  Life," 
that  "Milne-Edwards  the  elder  showed  long  since  that 
frogs,  when  prevented  from  coming  to  the  surface,  were 
able  to  live  under  water  so  long  as  they  were  not  cut  off 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  TURTLES.  275 

from  the  possibility  of  obtaining  food,  and  were  freely  sup- 
plied with  fresh  water.  In  such  a  case  general  skin-res- 
piration must  necessarily  take  the  place  of  lung-respira- 
tion." Ey  experiment  I  have  been  able  to  determine 
that  a  snapper  can  remain  twenty-one  days  beneath  run- 
ning water  without  food,  and  yet  not  appear  to  have 
suffered ;  although  its  appetite  was  perfectly  wonderful 
when  the  creature  was  relieved  from  its  confined  and 
submerged  quarters. 

Considering,  then,  the  facts,  that  one  of  these  species 
has  been  known  to  take  a  baited  hook  in  midwinter,  and 
that  individuals  of  this  same  or  another  species  have  been 
found  to  eat  of  fishes  that  were  entangled  in  a  net  set  be- 
neath the  ice,  and  bearing  in  mind  that  they  have  been 
found  in  quite  an  active  state  in  shallow  but  open  waters 
even  in  midwinter,  it  is  safe  to  assert  that  certain  of  our 
turtles  do  not  regularly  hibernate  from  autumn  until 
spring,  as  has  been  generally  supposed  ;  the  snappers,  the 
musk-turtles,  and  the  "  mud-diggers,"  furnishing  the 
prominent  exceptions  to  the  rule. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

uz  GAUNT'S  TALK  ABOUT  TTJETLES. 

"  CHRISTMAS  of  '77  was  a  green  one,  you  may  remem- 
ber," remarked  Uz,  as  he  shook  the  ashes  from  his  pipe. 
"  It  didn't  need  any  hickory  logs  blazin'  on  the  hearth, 
such  as  these,"  and  he  stirred  the  ashes  and  rearranged 
the  wood  on  the  andirons  as  he  spoke  of  them.  "  The 
weather  had  been  mild  for  a  long  time,  and  once  I  heard 
frogs  singin'.  Well,  this  kind  of  thing  sort  of  came  to  a 
focus  on  Christmas  day,  which  was  warm  even  in  the 
shade.  The  river-  was  low,  the  meadows  dry,  and  the 
crows  as  noisy  as  in  April.  I  felt  sort  of  restless  like, 
and  took  a  walk  in  the  meadows.  I  left  my  gun  home, 
and  thought  I'd  just  look  'round.  Without  thinking  of 
them  when  I  started  out,  I  wandered  over  to  your  marshy 
meadow,  and  began  pokin'  about  with  my  cane  for  snap- 
pers. You  know  I  take  kindly  to  a  bowl  of  snapper-soup 
of  my  own  fixin'." 

"  Yes,  I  do  that,  and  can  run  along  neck-and-neck  with 
you,  when  you're  the  cook." 

"  Well,  I  followed  the  main  ditch  down,  jumpin'  from 
hassock  to  hassock,  and  kept  probin'  in  the  mud  with 
my  cane,  when,  after  a  bit,  I  felt  something  hard  at  the 
end  of  my  stick.  It  wasn't  a  stone  or  a  stump,  I  knew 
at  once.  There  was  a  little  tremble  run  up  the  stick  to 
my  hand  that  told  me  that  much.  A  sort  of  shake,  as 


UZ  GAUNT'S  TALK  ABOUT  TURTLES.         277 

though  you  hit  an  empty  barrel,  as  near  as  I  can  tell 
you.  I'd  a  turtle  down  in  the  mud,  and  concluded  to 
bring  it  out  into  the  daylight.  There's  more  than  one 
way  to  do  this,  but  none  of  'em  is  an  easy  job  to  get 
through  with.  I  kept  probin'  'round  him,  to  try  and 
make  out  where  his  head  was,  and  then  I  could  feel  for 
his  tail,  and  pull  him  out. "  Now  this  does  very  well  for 
one  of  your  common  snappers,  but  didn't  work  so  easy  in 
this  case.  I  could  sort  of  feel  that  turtle  all  over  the 
meadow.  Wherever  I  put  my  cane  down,  I  seemed  to 
come  to  his  back  shell ;  but  after  edgin'  out  a  bit  for  some 
time  I  could  make  out  the  rim  of  it,  and  I  tell  you  he  was 
a  whopper,  accordin'  to  my  probin'.  That  turtle  seemed 
about  as  big  'round  as  a  wash-tub,  and  I  got  regularly 
worked  up  about  him.  I  wasn't  in  trim  for  huntin',  but 
didn't  care.  I'd  found  a  turtle  that  was  worth  havin',  and 
I  meant  to  have  him.  Probin'  showed  he  was  about 
three  feet  deep  in  the  mud,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
locate  his  tail  and  then  reach  down  for  him.  So  I  did, 
but  it  was  no  use.  I  felt  about,  and  got  one  ugly  scratch 
from  a  hind  foot,  but  he  kept  his  tail  out  of  reach,  or 
hadn't  any ;  I  didn't  know  which,  then.  After  thinkin' 
a  spell,  I  concluded  I'd  try  to  get  a  pry  under  him,  and 
went  for  a  fence-rail.  It  took  me  some  time  to  get  what 
I  wanted,  and  when  I  got  back  that  turtle  had  got  out. 
I  probed  all  'round,  but  he'd  moved.  This  rather  took 
me  down,  but  I  kept  up  my  hunt,  and  after  a  bit  found 
he'd  moved  straight  for  the  main  ditch,  and  was  tearin' 
up  the  mud  on  the  bottom  as  he  went.  This  was  all 
that  saved  him  for  me,  and  I  no  sooner  learned  his 
whereabouts  than  I  went  for  him  in  earnest.  I  ran  the 
rail  I  had  right  under  him,  and  tried  to  lift  him  up. 
Thunder  and  lightnin',  boy,  you  might  as  well  try  to  lift  a 
steer.  I  disturbed  him,  though,  and  checked  his  course  a 


278  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

bit.  Jammin'  the  rail  down  again,  I  guess  I  hit  his  head, 
for  it  riled  him,  evidently,  and  he  raised  right  up.  His 
head  and  neck  came  up  out  of  the  sand,  and  I  was  for 
standin'  back  just  then.  If  ever  you  saw  a  wicked  eye, 
that  turtle  had  one,  and  his  head  was  as  big  as  my  list. 
Stickin'  his  head  out,  though,  gave  me  the  knowledge  I 
wanted.  I  knew  how  he  laid  in  the  mud,  and  I  ran  my 
rail  down  under  him  as  far  as  I  could.  It  kept  him 
from  divin'  down,  and  I  went  right  into  the  ditch  to  try 
and  get  a  hold  on  his  tail  if  I  could.  This  I  did,  after 
feelin'  for  it  a  bit,  and  no  sooner  had  I  got  a  good  grip  on 
it  than  the  old  fellow  got  free  of  the  rail  and  commenced 
goin'  deep  into  the  mud.  I  tugged  and  he  dug,  and  it 
was  a  clear  case  of  '  pull  Dick,  pull  devil '  between  us. 
He  was  gettin'  the  better  of  me,  though,  for  I  was  gettin' 
chilled  in  that  water,  and  had  nearly  lost  my  hold,  when 
the  turtle  gave  an  extra  jerk,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
the  fence-rail  I'd  a  lost  him.  I  was  pulled  for'ard,  but 
the  rail  was  right  in  front,  so  I  put  one  foot  on  it,  to 
keep  from  sinkin'  any  deeper  in  the  mire.  This  bracin' 
gave  me  the  advantage  now,  and  I  put  all  my  strength  to 
it.  The  turtle  came  a  little,  and  I  seemed  to  gain  strength. 
I  tugged  and  tugged  with  all  my  might,  and  presently 
his  hind  feet  showed.  You  see,  he  hadn't  firm  enough 
mud  to  hold  on  to.  I  backed  slowly  across  the  ditch 
when  I  got  him  in  open  water,  and  got  a  fair  footin'  on 
the  ditch-bank  at  last.  Still,  I  wasn't  out  of  the  woods  by 
a  long  shot.  That  turtle  weighed  close  onto  seventy 
pounds,  and  I'd  no  means  of  handlin'  him.  Chilled 
through,  with  both  hands  needed  to  hold  him,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  mucky  meadow,  all  that  was  left  me  was 
to  try  and  drag  him  to  the  high,  smooth  meadows.  It 
was  a  tough  job,  I  tell  you.  I  had  to  walk  backward, 
and  he  pulled  against  me  like  a  frightened  horse.  I 


UZ  GAUNT'S  TALK  ABOUT  TURTLES.         279 

gained  a  little,  slowly,  and  after  a  bit  got  on  the  high 
ground.  Then  I  felt  more  at  ease  and  took  a  rest.  I 
couldn't  take  him  home,  of  course,  in  the  same  fashion, 
but  I  had  a  chance  to  let  him  loose,  and  rest  my  hands. 
How  I  looked  'round  for  a  bit  of  rope  to  bridle  him  !  It 
was  no  use,  though,  and  after  all  I  was  likely  to  lose  him 
altogether.  After  a  minute's  thinkin',  it  occurred  to  me 
I'd  make  a  hobble  out  of  my  shirt  and  then  slip  home 
lively  for  the  right  sort  of  tackle.  I  wasn't  long  in  get- 
tiu'  the  shirt  off,  and  I  twisted  it  into  a  sort  of  rope  and 
hobbled  him  with  it.  It  was  a  desperate,  odd-lookin'  tur- 
tle when  I  got  through,  and  I  laughed  at  him  a  bit  as  I 
turned  toward  the  house.  You  see,  I  left  him  on  his 
back,  and  his  legs  bound  so  he  couldn't  use  'em  to  turn 
over.  I  skipped  pretty  lively,  I  tell  you,  for  that  mile  or 
so  twixt  me  and  home,  and  was  in  a  good  glow  when  I 
got  in.  Ilettie  looked  kind  o'  scared  when  she  saw  me, 
but  I  put  her  mind  to  rest  in  two  words,  and  soon  was  on 
my  way  back.  A  bit  of  rope  and  my  sheath-knife  was 
all  I  needed.  I  skipped  over  the  iields  pretty  lively,  and 
was  soon  again  in  sight.  .  Now,  I  don't  think  it  was  an 
hour,  by  some  minutes,  before  I  was  back  on  the  high 
meadow,  but,  by  gracious !  it  don't  take  long  for  scenes 
to  change  in  natur'  any  more  than  it  does  in  a  theatre. 
Of  all  queer  sights,  that  was  the  funniest  I  saw  when  I 
got  back.  The  turtle  had  got  half  free  of  my  old  red 
shirt,  and  was  pa  win'  the  air  like  mad,  try  in'  to  get  on 
his  feet  again.  I  could  see  that  much  a  long  way  off,  and 
put  on  extra  speed  ;  but  when  I  was  about  fifty  yards  off 
I  stopped  short.  There  was  that  turtle  wrapped  in  my 
shirt,  and  a  pesky  skunk  sort  of  standin'  guard  over  him. 
Now,  I  hate  skunks.  They  don't  pay  to  trap,  and  they 
rob  my  hen-roost  every  winter.  I  was  afraid  to  frighten 
him,  too,  for  fear  he'd  spoil  my  snapper,  and  I  wanted 


280  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

the  value  of  a  shirt  out  of  the  turtle,  if  nothin'  more.  I 
walked  a  bit  nearer,  to  make  sure  of  how  matters  stood, 
and  it  was  clear  as  day,  the  skunk  thought  he  had  a  good 
thing  of  it,  if  he  could  only  kill  that  snapper.  I  thought 
the  same  way,  and  didn't  want  to  be  bettered  by  a  pesky 
skunk.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  jockey  about  it,  a  little  ; 
and  so,  first,  heaved  a  stone  at  the  critter.  It  gave  me  a 
look  and  started  on  a  slow  trot,  but  it  was  all  up  with  me, 
sure  enough.  He  shook  that  thunder  in'  old  brush  right 
at  the  turtle  and well !  if  he  didn't  sicken  the  snap- 
per, he  did  me,  that's  certain.  I  stood  the  racket  a  bit, 
though,  and  tried  to  move  the  snapper,  but  it  was  no  use ; 
I  couldn't  keep  at  it  long  enough  to  do  anything,  and 
don't  believe  it  would  have  amounted  to  much  any- 
how. I  got  a  stick  and  put  the  snapper  on  his  feet,  as 
well  as  I  could,  without  touchin'  him,  and  he  waddled 
off  for  the  mucky  meadow,  with  most  of  my  shirt  still 
stickin'  to  him,  and  plunged  into  the  ditch  as  soon  as  he 
could." 

"So  you  lost  the  turtle  after  all,"  I  remarked  in  a 
low  tone,  not  feeling  sure  I  had  heard  the  last  of  the 
story. 

"  No  I  didn't  either,"  Uz  replied  quickly.  «  Don't  set 
me  down  for  such  a  fool  as  that.  I  knew  well  enough 
the  turtle  wouldn't  wander  far,  so  I  kept  him  in  mind, 
and  the  next  April  I  went  out  in  proper  trim  and 
hunted  him  up.  I  found  him  after  two  days'  huntin', 
when  I  got  a  dozen  big  ones  besides,  but  he  was  the  king 
of  the  lot.  He  couldn't  turn  'round  in  a  wash-tub,  and 
weighed  somethin'  over  seventy  pounds.  I  looked  all 
over  him  for  some  sign  of  my  shirt,  but  there  wasn't  a 
thread  left." 

"  How  old  do  you  suppose  he  was  ? "  I  asked,  when 
Uz  had  concluded  his  story. 


UZ  GAUNrS  TALK  ABOUT  TURTLES.         281 

"I'm  not  sure  I  can  say,  but  he  was  no  chicken,  that's 
certain." 

"  According  to  Professor  Agassiz,  a  turtle  a  foot  long 
is  close  to  fifty  years  old,"  I  replied. 

"  Fifty  years  old !  Then  my  big  snapper  came  out  of 
the  ark,  I  guess,"  remarked  Uz. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

SHORT    STUDIES    OF    SNAKES. 

WEEE  this  a  fitting  opportunity,  I  should  be  glad 
to  give  in  detail  the  scores  of  marvelous  snake-stories 
which  from  time  to  time  have  been  related  in  my  hear- 
ing, or  which  I  have  clipped  from  newspapers.  These 
stories  have  not  come  solely  from  ignorant  and  supersti- 
tious people,  but  they  have  been  told  fully  as  often  by 
those  who  were  well  informed  on  other  subjects,  and  who 
would  be  considered  people  of  average  intelligence  and 
education. 

The  prevalent  absurd  accounts  of  our  common  snakes 
show  what  an  amount  of  ignorance  prevails  concerning  a 
class  of  animals  whose  undoubted  merits  should  be  prop- 
erly understood  and  appreciated. 

My  aim,  therefore,  in  referring  to  them,  is  to  break 
down,  if  possible,  long-established  prejudices.  It  is,  per- 
haps, a  hopeless  task,  a  kicking  against  the  pricks,  but  I 
shall  not  desist. 

Unfortunately  for  the  snakes,  and  for  ourselves  too, 
we  grow  up  so  imbued  with  unjust  suspicions  of  all 
creeping  things  that,  in  later  years,  but  few  of  us  seem 
disposed  to  listen  to  the  plain  truth  concerning  the  habits 
and  capabilities  of  these  most  interesting  and  generally 
very  useful  animals. 

Because  one  serpent  is  very  dangerous,  and  capable  of 
inflicting  deadly  wounds,  it  does  not  follow  that  all  ser- 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  283 

pents  are  to  be  shunned.  I  certainly  have  no  desire  to 
encounter  a  tiger,  but  I  do  not  therefore  hesitate  to  play 
with  a  kitten  ;  and  yet  the  same  style  of  reasoning  which 
dooms  the  harmless  snake  w^ould,  if  carried  out,  justify 
the  indiscriminate  slaughter  of  every  animal  of  the  cat 
kind. 

In  New  Jersey  we  have  two  species  of  serpents  — 
the  rattlesnake  and  copper-head — the  bite  of  either  of 
which  is  usually  regarded  as  fatal.  These  are  found  only 
in  limited  localities,  and,  even  there,  the  danger  to  be 
apprehended  from  them  is  more  apparent  than  real.  As 
neither  of  them  comes  within  the  range  of  ray  rambles, 
there  is  no  reason  to  fear  them;  so  why  should  I  dread 
the  harmless  serpents  that  may  chance  to  cross  my  path  ? 
Rather,  since  they  can  do  no  harm,  let  me  seek  them  out 
and  strive  to  learn  what  they  have  to  teach. 

Of  the  nine  or  ten  species  of  serpents  that  are  found 
here,  some  are  formidable  in  appearance  and  readily  re- 
sent interference.  What  they  do,  however,  is  in  self- 
defense,  as  they  are  never  the  attacking  party.  Of 
course,  they  will  dart  their  pretty  forked  tongues ;  will 
hiss,  and  even  snap  at  you  ;  but  there  it  ends.  Their  bite 
is  less  harmful  than  the  sting  of  a  mosquito,  though  the 
fact  is  by  no  means  generally  recognized  and  acted  upon. 
What  if  a  full-grown  black-snake,  when  trod  on,  does 
wrap  a  coil  or  two  about  your  legs  ?  It  can  only  result 
in  injury  to  the  snake,  and  all  newspaper  stories  as  to 
the  serious  harm  they  do  to  young  children,  by  coiling 
about  them,  may  be  dismissed  as  fables.  Perhaps  a  great 
part  of  the  unjust  suspicion  that  attaches  to  snakes  may 
be  ascribed  to  the  stories  of  their  fierceness  related  by 
early  travelers.  Thus,  Campanius,  in  his  "  History  of  New 
Sweden,"  describes  the  rattlesnake  as  follows :  "  There 
is  here,  also,  a  large  and  horrible  serpent  which  is  called 


284:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

a  rattlesnake.  It  has  a  head  like  that  of  a  dog,  and  can 
bite  off  a  man's  leg  as  clear  as  if  it  had  been  hewn  down 
with  an  axe."  Such  a  description  of  any  one  of  our  ser- 
pents is  enough  to  make  a  person  timid  and  suspicious  of 
all  our  snakes,  nor  can  it  be  wondered  at.  Kalm,  too, 
magnified  the  fierceness,  size,  and  courage  of  our  serpents, 
and  particularly  the  black-snakes.  Much  of  that  which 
he  relates,  be  it  understood,  never  happened.  Among 
other  impossible  occurrences  he  tells  the  following  "  snake- 
story,"  which  it  would  be  hard  to  match,  even  in  these 
days :  "  During  my  stay  in  New  York,  Dr.  Golden  told 
me  that,  in  the  spring,  1748,  he  had  several  workmen  at 
his  country-seat,  and  among  them  one  lately  arrived  from 
Europe,  who  of  course  knew  very  little  of  the  qualities 
of  the  Black-Snake.  The  other  workmen  seeing  a  great 
Black-Snake  .  .  .  engaged  the  new  comer  to  go  and 
kill  it,  which  he  intended  to  do  with  a  little  stick.  But 
on  approaching  the  place  .  .  .  the  male  (snake)  in  great 
wrath  leaves  his  pleasure  to  pursue  the  fellow  with 
amazing  swiftness ;  he  little  expected  such  courage  in  the 
snake,  and  flinging  away  his  stick,  began  to  run  as  fast 
as  he  was  able.  The  snake  pursued  him,  overtook  him, 
and  twisting  several  times  round  his  feet,  threw  him 
down,  and  frightened  him  almost  out  of  his  senses ;  he 
could  not  get  rid  of  the  snake  till  he  took  a  knife  and 
cut  it  through  in  two  or  three  places.  The  other  work- 
men were  rejoiced  at  this  sight,  and  laughed  at  it,  with- 
out offering  to  help  their  companion." 

It  will  be  observed  that  our  author  does  not  assert 
that  all  this  happened  within  his  personal  knowledge,  but, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  an  instance  of  a  person  telling  some 
one  else  what  a  third  person  saw ;  and  this  is  usually  the 
case  with  snake-stories. 

Now,  so  far  as  the  story  of  the  fierceness  of  black- 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  285 

snakes  being  more  marked  in  spring  than  at  other  times 
is  concerned,  the  truth  is,  that  this  is  the  time  of  year 
when  they  are  particularly  sluggish.  When  disturbed  in 
their  dreams,  on  a  bright  spring  morning,  they  will  often 
remain  rigid,  and  apparently  feign  death,  rather  than  make 
an  effort  to  escape  or  to  simulate  a  courage  which  they 
do  not  possess,  in  order  to  frighten  and  drive  you  away. 
It  is  but  fair,  however,  to  our  author  to  add  that  his 
own  experience  scarcely  agreed  with  the  stories  that  were 
told  him,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  following  extract :  "  I 
can  not  well  doubt  of  this — the  fierceness  of  the  black- 
snakes  when  mated — as  I  have  heard  it  said  by  numbers 
of  creditable  people ;  but  I  could  never  succeed  in  provok- 
ing them.  I  ran  always  away  on  perceiving  it,  or  flung 
something  at  it,  and  then  took  to  my  heels,  but  I  could 
never  bring  the  snakes  to  pursue  me ;  I  know  not  for 
what  reason  they  shunned  me,  unless  they  took  me  for 
an  awful  seducer." 

The  reason  is  plain  enough.  Ivalm  desired  to  know 
the  truth,  and  took  the  experimental  way  of  learning  it. 
His  knowledge  of  the  snakes  was  gained  by  familiar,  out- 
of-doors  intercourse  with  them,  and  it  has  stood  the  test 
of  time.  All  that  was  needed,  when  he  wrote,  was  the 
moral  courage  to  say  to  the  narrators  of  the  marvelous 
stories,  "  You  are  mistaken  " ;  or  perhaps,  more  wisely, 
he  might  have  kept  silent.  The  most  conscientious  man, 
if  afraid  of  snakes,  can  not  tell  the  truth  about  them ; 
and  even  in  the  case  of  the  truly  poisonous  species,  it  is 
well  to  remember  that  "  the  devil  is  not  so  black  as  he  is 
painted." 

Although  the  rattlesnake  does  not  now  frequent  this 
neighborhood,  yet  it  was  probably  not  uncommon  here 
years  ago.  I  have  not,  however,  been  able  to  find  in  any 


286  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  the  local  histories  any  record  of  one  having  been  seen 
here.  Perhaps  the  black-snakes,  which  until  recently 
were  so  numerous,  succeeded  in  exterminating  them,  for 
the  two  are  deadly  enemies.  That  this  might  readily 
have  been  the  case  is  very  probable,  particularly  if  such 
occurrences  as  the  following  were  ever  very  common  : 

"In  the  middle  of  the  road  lay  an  ordinary  black- 
snake  and  quite  a  large  rattlesnake,  eying  one  another 
fiercely,  both  ready  for  an  attack.  The  party  stood  mo- 
tionless to  see  the  battle  take  place ;  but  he  waited  long, 
and  still  the  combatants  did  not  move.  At  length,  tired 
of  watching,  he  slightly  shook  the  bar  of  the  fence,  which 
caused  the  rattlesnake  to  look  from  its  opponent  to  him- 
self. Instantly,  the  black-snake  sprang  on  the  other, 
twisted  itself  tightly  around  its  neck,  and  then  its  body, 
and  glided  off,  and  there  lay  the  rattlesnake,  dead.  The 
victim,  we  all  know,  was  a  powerful  foe,  the  victor  as 
harmless  a  snake  as  there  is  in  the  land." 

I  have  several  clippings  from  newspapers,  recording 
the  capture  of  veritable  copper-heads  near  here,  but  as  the 
harmless  hog-nose  snake  and  the  gentle  calico-snake  have 
often  been  mistaken  for  this  venomous  species,  I  am 
inclined  to  look  upon  all  such  reports  as  cases  of  mistaken 
identity.  It  would  not  please  me  to  know  that  at  any 
time  I  might  possibly  chance  upon  one,  but  as  I  never 
have  in  all  these  years  been  so  unfortunate,  I  must  con- 
tinue to  think  that  there  is  but  little  reason  to  fear  them. 
Harmless  snakes  have  repeatedly  been  brought  to  me  as 
genuine  copper-heads,  and,  to  the  horror  of  my  friends, 
1  have  let  these  supposed  dreaded  serpents  bite  me,  when 
I  succeeded  in  provoking  them  sufficiently  to  do  so ;  but 
even  this  proof  of  their  harmlessness  was  not  always  satis- 
factory. 

I  purposely  omit  any  discussion  of  the  often-asked 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  287 

question,  Do  snakes  swallow  their  young  ?  I  have  never 
seen  them  do  so,  and  here  ends  my  knowledge  of  the 
matter.  I  have,  therefore,  only  to  add  that  as  many 
snakes  feed  upon  small  snakes,  and  occasionally  have  two 
or  three  at  once  in  their  stomachs ;  and  further,  that  as 
some  species  are  ovoviviparous,  or  hatch  their  young 
within  their  bodies,  thus  offering,  occasionally,  the  specta- 
cle of  a  large  female  snake  with  twenty  to  thirty  small 
snakes  within  it,  it  is  possible  that  some  such  occurrence 
may  have  given  rise  to  the  stories  we  so  often  hear  of 
snakes  apparently  swallowing  their  young  in  order  to  pro- 
tect them  from  harm.  It  is  thought  not  to  be  impossible, 
though  improbable,  that  such  a  habit  should  be  common 
to  any  species. 

In  the  course  of  my  rambles  I  have  found  a  great 
many  snakes,  of  all  sizes,  colors,  and,  I  may  add,  disposi- 
tions. They  are  all  well  known  to  herpetologists,  for  a 
long  and  not  always  handsome  name  has  been  given  to 
each  variety.  They  are  also  well  known  in  an  anatomi- 
cal point  of  view,  though  their  habits,  haunts,  and  merits 
have  not  been  very  closely  studied.  It  would  seem  that, 
in  most  cases,  to  drop  the  squirming  creature  into  alcohol, 
and  tack  a  label  on  the  bottle,  was  all  that  the  naturalist 
desired  to  do.  To  know  where  a  snake  came  from,  and 
its  scientific  name,  is,  so  far  as  it  goes,  very  useful  knowl- 
edge ;  but  I  would  like  to  know  what  the  snakes  did  be- 
fore their  capture. 

Of  the  ten  well-marked  species  that  may  be  found 
within  half  a  mile  of  my  front  door,  probably  the  most 
abundant  is  the  hog-nose  snake,  known  to  my  neighbors 
by  a  variety  of  names,  though  none  is  so  good  as  the  one 
mentioned.  "  Adder,"  "  flat-head,"  "  viper,"  and  a  dozen 
other  misnomers  are  freely  used  ;  "  flat-head "  being, 


288  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

perhaps,  a  fairly  good  name,  as  the  habit  indicated  by  this 
name  is  most  marked  in  this  species. 

In  the  entire  range  of  animal  life  I  know  of  no  creat- 
ure so  thoroughly  harmless  as  this  snake  ;  yet,  as  it  flattens 
its  head,  hisses  loudly,  springs  menacingly,  and  snaps 
fiercely,  it  is  credited  by  many  with  all  the  venom  of  the 
rattlesnake,  which,  by  the  way,  it  quite  closely  resembles 
in  many  ways. 

As  an  object  of  study  it  presents  much  that  is  of 
peculiar  interest.  "Without  fangs,  or  even  teeth  of  suffi- 
cient length  to  produce  a  wound  beyond  a  mere  pin- 
prick, it  presents  the  outward  appearance  and  has  the 
pose  and  movement  of  the  venomous  serpents  generally. 
Wholly  unable  to  inflict  the  slightest  injury,  it  has  always 
puzzled  me  to  understand  why  it  should  not,  like  all  our 
other  snakes,  seek  safety  in  flight.  May  w^e  hold  that  it 
realizes  the  full  meaning  of  the  peculiar  powers  of  the 
venomous  serpent  it  mimics  so  admirably,  and  trusts  to  its 
being  mistaken  for  a  rattlesnake  ?  Indeed,  this  mimicry 
has  been  perfect,  in  some  instances  that  I  have  witnessed, 
inasmuch  as  the  tail  of  the  snake  was  rapidly  vibrated 
against  dead  leaves,  and  so  produced  a  sound  that  was 
strikingly  similar  to  that  of  the  rattlesnake.  This  simi- 
larity was,  of  course,  accidental,  as  it  was  by  mere  chance 
that  dry  leaves  were  lying  about;  but  at  various  other 
times  I  have  noticed  that  the  tail  was  held  in  the  same 
position  and  vibrated  in  precisely  the  same  manner  as 
that  of  the  rattlesnake.  In  these  instances  I  thought  I 
detected  a  faint  whirring  sound,  or  a  buzzing,  but  on  this 
point  I  am  not  positive. 

Mimicry,  on  the  part  of  snakes,  is  a  ready  way  of  ex- 
plaining some  of  their  habits ;  but  even  when  accepted, 
it  remains  to  be  shown  how  it  originated.  Is  there  any 
evidence  that  in  former  times  the  hog-nosa  snake  and 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  289 

rattlesnake  were  intimately  associated  ?  I  can  find  none, 
and  certainly  at  present  the  two  species  are  not  found 
together,  not  being  frequenters  of  the  same  kind  of  locali- 
ties. The  hog-nose  snake  prefers  open,  sandy  fields ; 
the  rattlesnake,  rocks,  and  at  all  times  a  forest-growth, 
or,  at  least,  a  dense  undergrowth.  I  have  endeavored 
in  vain  to  detest  something  in  their  habits,  haunts,  and 
anatomy  that  could  throw  light  upon  these  questions,  but, 
as  yet,  all  in  vain ;  I  can  only  say  that  the.  snake  is  in 
appearance  a  rattler,  but  that  it  has  neither  the  rattles 
nor  the  fangs.  A  veritable  impostor  is  he,  sailing  under 
false  colors  throughout  his  whole  life. 

Of  all  our  serpents,  the  hog-nose  is,  by  far,  the  most 
sluggish  in  its  movements.  So  slow  is  it,  that  it  can  be 
easily  overtaken,  if  it  should  attempt  to  escape,  which  it 
rarely  does.  I  have  found  them  partial  to  loose,  sandy 
soils,  as  in  cultivated  fields,  in  which  they  burrow  with 
all  the  facility  of  a  mole.  They  burrow,  I  am  led  to  be- 
lieve, only  to  a  shallow  depth,  and  think  it  is  in  search  of 
earth  worms  and  insect  larvae,  and  not  merely  for  the  sake 
of  shelter.  In  several  instances,  where  I  have  detected 
them  coming  out  of  the  ground,  I  have  found  in  their 
stomachs  masses  of  semi-digested  animal  matter  which 
were  believed  to  be  the  remains  of  earth-worms  and  in- 
sect larvse.  This  fact  should  give  the  snake  a  claim  to 
protection  from  the  farmer,  and  this  is  now  set  up  for 
them,  though  with  little  or  no  hope  that  my  interposi- 
tion in  their  behalf  will  result  in  any  permanent  benefit. 

In  the  month  of  May  I  have  frequently  found  their 
eggs,  in  considerable  numbers,  a  few  inches  below  the 
surface;  and  early  in  July  I  once  found  a  family  of 
seventeen  very  small  and  apparently  just  hatched  young, 
In  this  instance  no  old  snakes  were  seen.  Young  as  these 
little  ones  were,  and  apparently  with  quite  defective, 

13 


290  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

vision,  they  resented  all  interference,  and  snapped  and 
hissed  precisely  as  an  older  snake  would  do.  Even  the 
head  and  neck  were  distinctly  flattened. 

While  sensitive,  as  all  snakes  are,  to  cold,  these  hog- 
nose  serpents  appear  to  have  greater  powers  of  endurance 
than  any  of  the  other  species  that  are  found  in  this  vicin- 
•ity.  They  are,  I  think,  the  first  to  make  their  appearance 
in  spring,  and  the  latest  to  go  into  winter-quarters.  These 
quarters  are  usually  burrows  of  such  depth  and  in  such 
a  position  as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  frost,  and  in  them 
many  individuals  are  congregated.  Occasionally  differ- 
ent species  of  snakes  are  associated  in  these  subterranean 
retreats,  three  or  four  being  often  coiled  together  in  an 
almost  globular  mass.  At  such  times  they  are  quite 
inert,  and  do  not  revive  until  exposed  to  a  considerable 
warmth  for  several  hours. 

An  uncommon  variety  of  this  species  of  snake  is 
nearly  or  quite  black,  and,  being  somewhat  more  vicious 
in  appearance,  it  has  the  reputation  of  being  even  more 
dangerous  than  its  mottled  black  and  yellow  companions. 
All  the  black  specimens  that  I  have  seen  have  been  very 
large,  and  otherwise  seemed  to  be  old,  and  it  is  my  belief 
that  they  are  merely  aged  individuals,  and  not  a  variety 
or  sub-species. 

Kalm  says  of  the  serpents  found  in  New  Jersey :  "  The 
Rattle-snake,  Horned  Snakes,  red-bellied,  green,  and  other 
poisonous  Snakes,  against  whose  bites  there  is  frequently 
no  remedy,  are  in  great  plenty  here."  This  statement  is 
worthy  of  a  moment's  consideration.  It  is  correct  so  far 
as  the  poisonous  character  of  the  rattlesnake's  bite  is  con- 
cerned ;  but  what  of  the  other  species  he  mentions  ? 
Possibly  his  "horned  snake"  is  the  hog-nosed  serpent 
about  which  I  have  been  writing ;  or,  if  not,  it  may  be 
the  mythical  hoop-snake  to  which  he  refers — a  snake  that 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES..  291 

hundreds  of  people  are  ever  ready  to  affirm  they  have 
occasionally  seen,  and  by  which  they  have  been  chased ; 
but  which,  strangely  enough,  has  never  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  a  naturalist.  The  "  red-bellied "  snake  men- 
tioned by  Kalm  may  be  any  one  of  three  or  more  species 
that  have  a  red  or  ruddy  belly.  I  suppose,  however,  that 
he  refers  to  our  common  water-snake,  a  species  that  has 
afforded  me  much  entertainment  while  watching  it  in  its 
chosen  haunts. 

Kalm,  it  will  be  noticed,  believed  it  to  be  a  poisonous 
species.  This,  of  course,  arose  from  simple  hearsay,  as 
he  evidently  was  too  prudent  to  test  the  matter  personally. 
Even  at  present  it  is  generally  supposed  to  be  venomous, 
although  its  harmless  nature  has  been  noted  by  every 
herpetologist.  If  facts  of  this  character,  embodying  as 
they  do  much  useful  knowledge,  were  taught  in  our  pub- 
lic schools,  as  they  ought  to  be,  we  should  be  spared  much 
nonsense.  Only  the  other  day  I  read  in  a  local  news- 
paper that  "a  large,  poisonous  water-adder,  measuring 
over  seven  feet,  was  killed  near  the  mill-pond.  It  is 
supposed  to  have  bitten  several  cows."  Here  are  two 
errors,  to  call  them  by  no  harsher  name,  to  start  with. 
In  the  first  place,  the  snake  is  not  poisonous ;  and  in  the 
second,  no  one  of  them  ever  grew  to  be  seven  feet  in 
length.  As  to  biting  the  cows,  that  is  not  improbable ; 
but  the  wounds  inflicted  were  not  so  serious  as  the  bites 
of  the  blood-thirsty  green  flies  that  worry  our  horses  and 
cattle  throughout  the  summer  months. 

The  common  water-snake  is  strictly  an  aquatic  species ; 
not  that  it  can  not  and  does  not  freely  leave  the  water,  for 
this  it  frequently  does,  though  the  shallow,  weedy  brooks, 
the  deep  mill-ponds,  and  even  the  river  itself,  are,  essen- 
tially, its  homes.  In  such  localities,  it  is  the  active,  alert, 
lithesome  serpent  that  I  never  tire  of  watching. 


292         RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

These  snakes,  if  not  venomous,  are  vicious,  I  admit, 
and  do  not  hesitate  to  bite,  if  irritated ;  but  the  result  is 
like  the  prick  of  a  pin.  I  have  often  teased  them,  to 
see  how  hard  they  could  bite,  and  found  that  they  seldom 
brought  blood,  and  their  teeth  never  remained  in  the 
skin  of  my  arm  or  leg. 

I  have  noticed  that  the  water-snake,  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, is  partial  to  still  waters  of  considerable  depth,  and 
seldom  frequents  streams  that  have  not  a  bottom  of 
deep,  soft  mud,  in  which  to  take  refuge  when  pursued, 
and  in  which  it  buries  itself  deeply  during  the  winter. 
"While  fond  of  sunning  itself  on  the  banks  of  streams,  it 
also  spends  much  time  on  the  mud.  Occasionally,  when 
cautiously  approached,  it  will  move  off  in  such  a  gentle 
manner  as  to  leave  the  imprint  of  its  body  on  the  muddy 
bed  where  it  had  been  resting.  Unlike  all  others  of  our 
snakes,  this  one  does  not  require  constant  access  to  the 
atmosphere,  but  can  live  for  days  in  well-aerated  water, 
as  I  have  determined  by  repeated  experiments. 

While,  usually,  the  water-snake,  in  passing  from  the 
land  to  the  water,  simply  glides  from  the  shore  to  its 
proper  home  directly,  I  have  found  that,  at  times,  it 
would  pass  through  burrowings  near  the  shore,  and  seek 
the  water  by  a  short  subterranean  passage.  Such  burrow- 
ings  or  passages  are  not  made  by  the  snake,  I  am  positive, 
but  are  the  work  of  star-nosed  moles,  shrews,  and,  in  some 
cases,  of  cray-fish.  That  such  routes  should  be  chosen  by 
the  snakes  is  not  readily  explained,  for  I  find  that  the 
snakes  do  not  linger  in  them,  but  pass  directly  through 
and  into  the  mud  beneath.  To  be  sure,  if  the  creature 
is  escaping  from  an  enemy,  real  or  supposed,  this  means 
is  more  effectual  than  a  direct  plunge  into  the  water,  as 
the  snake  reaches  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  is  wholly 
out  of  sight,  beneath  the  mud.  But  is  a  water-snake 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  293 

sufficiently  intelligent  to  warrant  us  in  accepting  this  as 
an  explanation  ?  During  the  summer  this  snake  delights 
in  sunning  itself  on  a  mat  of  dead  grass,  which  it  appears 
to  collect  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  more  comfortable 
bed  than  the  growing  grass  alone  would  afford.  Often, 
well  coated  with  mud,  they  crawl  from  the  bed  of  the 
stream  to  these  spots,  and  there  remain  a  long  while, 
tightly  coiled  and,  I  suppose,  asleep.  The  adhering  mud, 
now  exposed  to  the  sun,  quickly  dries  and  falls  off,  and 
in  time  the  grass  beds  become  completely  covered  with  a 
fine  dust,  often  an  inch  or  more  in  depth. 

At  other  times  these  snakes,  well  coated  with  mud, 
go  directly  from  the  water  to  one  of  the  subterranean 
passages,  and,  passing  down  the  narrow  entrance,  they 
leave  a  portion  of  the  adherent  mud  as  a  rim  about 
the  opening.  When  sun-dried,  such  ring-like  elevations 
closely  resemble  the  curious  "  mud  chimneys "  of  the 
cray-fish ;  and  the  latter,  by  many  people,  are  considered 
as  the  work  of  water-snakes.  Time  and  again  I  have 
been  told  that  the  Cray-fishes'  mud- works  were  "  snake- 
holes,"  and  I  am  not  surprised  that  such  an  impression  is 
common,  for  it  must  be  remembered  that  water-snakes  do 
occasionally  make  a  similar  ring  of  mud  about  holes  in 
the  mud-banks  of  creeks  and  ditches ;  and  again,  who  has 
ever  seen  a  cray-fish  building  his  "chimney,"  ring  after 
ring,  until  it  reaches  several  inches  in  height  ? 

In  the  water  the  movements  of  this  snake  are  as  agile 
as  those  of  the  most  active  fish,  and  their  food  consists 
very  largely  of  minnows.  These  they  catch  by  a  sudden 
dart  through  a  school  of  them,  seldom  failing  to  seize 
one  of  the  number.  It  has  seemed  to  me,  however,  that 
this  was  rather  a  hap-hazard  proceeding,  as  the  snake  did 
not  appear  to  single  out  any  particular  fish,  but  merely 
opened  its  mouth  and  left  the  rest  to  luck.  Often  fishes 


294:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  a  large  size  are  seized  in  this  manner  and  dragged  to  the 
shore,  when,  after  dying  from  exposure  to  the  atmosphere, 
they  are  again  taken  to  the  water,  buried  in  the  mud,  and 
devoured  by  the  snake  at  its  leisure.  Frogs,  too,  form  a 
not  inconsiderable  part  of  their  food,  which  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  is  sought  as  well  on  land  as  in  the  water, 
though  I  have  never  found  them  so  engaged.  Nor  have 
I  ever  discovered  any  evidence  that  they  preyed  upon 
mice — the  principal  food  of  land-snakes — in  the  many 
dissections  that  I  have  made. 

There  is  another  species  of  water-snake  which  I  have 
occasionally  seen  in  our  creeks  and  ditches — seen  it  swim- 
ming by,  and  that  is  all. 

Occasionally,  late  in  April  and  throughout  the  month 
of  May,  several  small  species  of  snakes  (collectively  called 
"  garter-snakes "  by  the  country  people)  may  be  seen  in 
the  shallow  waters  of  our  ditches.  There  is  a  family 
likeness  running  through  the  series,  and  it  is  often  diffi- 
cult to  identify  them.  One  of  the  prettiest  and  most 
active  of  these  is  called  De  Kay's  little  brown  snake.  It 
is  fully  as  active  as  the  foregoing  when  in  the  water,  and 
far  more  agile  and  rapid  in  its  movements  when  on  land. 
My  last  opportunity  of  observing  them  was  in  May,  1881, 
when  I  found  three  of  them  on  the  bank  of  a  shallow 
ditch,  each  occupied  in  slowly  swallowing  a  little  frog  or 
"  peeper."  Frequent  observations,  made  some  years  ago, 
convince  me  that  the  several  species  of  grasshoppers  con- 
stitute their  principal  food-supply  in  summer. 

Like  the  true  water-snakes,  they  are  excellent  fishers, 
and,  gliding  through  the  shallow  waters  with  marvelous 
celerity,  they  catch  minnows  and  young  pike  in  large  num- 
bers. Late  in  the  summer  I  find  that  they  retire  to  the 
upland  woods,  where  they  are  often  seen  in  sunny  nooks, 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  295 

coiled  up  on  beds  of  dry,  dead  leaves ;  and  throughout 
September  and  later  I  have  seldom  found  them  in  the 
ditches  and  surrounding  meadows,  which  seem  to  be  their 
haunts  in  spring  and  early  summer. 

This  little  brown  snake  is  readily  tamed,  and  can  be 
taught  to  take  flies  from  the  fingers.  Indeed,  I  think 
they  recognize  those  who  are  accustomed  to  feed  or  handle 
them. 

Another  snake,  perhaps  less  common  than  the  fore- 
going, but  more  conspicuous  from  its  greater  size  and 
brilliant  markings,  is  the  ribbon-snake,  or  "  swift  garter." 
Of  all  our  serpents,  this  is  my  favorite.  For  hours  I 
have  played  with  them,  and  never  knew  one  to  exhibit 
any  ill-temper,  even  when  teased  persistently.  "While 
perfectly  at  home  in  the  water,  this  serpent  can  not  be 
considered  as  aquatic  or  even  semi-aquatic.  Far  more 
frequently  I  have  found  them  in  the  high  and  dry  woods, 
not  always  creeping  or  darting  over  the  dead  leaves,  but 
in  trees  and  bushes,  several  feet  from  the  ground,  where 
they  seem  to  be  quite  at  home,  twisting  and  turning  amid 
the  tangled  branches  of  the  stunted  oaks  as  freely  as  if 
on  smooth  ground.  Just  what  they  were  seeking  in  such 
situations  I  could  never  determine,  for  I  never  saw  them 
robbing  birds'  nests  nor  peering  into  squirrels'  homes  in 
the  hollow  trees.  Tree-toads,  I  know,  they  occasionally 
capture,  but  these  are  not  sufficiently  abundant  to  induce 
a  snake  to  spend  much  time  in  hunting  for  them. 

It  is  eminently  true  of  this  snake,  and  I  believe  it  is 
equally  so  of  all  our  smaller  snakes,  that  they  prey  very 
largely  upon  insects.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  aggre- 
gate of  insect-life  thus  destroyed  is  very  large,  for  these 
animals,  as  a  class,  are  not  voracious  feeders.  Yery  often 
a  mouse  serves  them  as  a  meal,  and  satisfies  their  hunger 


296  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

for  a  week  or  more.  It  is  probable,  however,  that  the 
number  of  mice  and  young  squirrels  destroyed  by  snakes 
would  be  much  greater  if  there  were  no  insects  for  them 
to  feed  upon.  The  larger  grasshoppers,  black  crickets, 
and  even  beetles,  I  have  often  found  in  the  stomachs  of 
all  our  smaller  upland  snakes. 

Another  very  common  species  is  the  true  garter-snake. 
In  the  course  of  a  summer  more  of  these  garter-snakes 
are  seen  than  of  individuals  of  all  our  other  species  to- 
gether. This  arises  from  the  fact,  in  part,  that  they  are 
a  social  snake,  and  a  dozen  or  more  will  often  wander 
about  a  chosen  haunt  in  company.  I  never  find  one  but 
I  instinctively  look  about  for  its  companions.  They  are 
quite  cunning,  and,  when  hard  pressed,  exhibit  considera- 
ble ingenuity  in  their  efforts  to  escape.  They  are  also,  at 
times,  very  irritable,  and  when  cornered  they  often  show 
fight  as  promptly  as  the  hog-nose  snakes.  They  can  inflate 
their  bodies,  slightly  elevate  the  scales  on  their  backs,  and 
thus  present  a  somewhat  formidable  appearance.  Their 
needle-like  teeth  are  also  brought  into  play,  and  with  a 
great  show  of  courage  they  bite  viciously  and  even  hold 
on  with  some  persistence.  There,  however,  it  ends. 

The  eggs  of  this  garter-snake,  as  well  as  those  of  the 
preceding,  are  deposited  in  the  loose,  sandy  soil  of  the 
recently-plowed  fields.  I  have  found  none  earlier  than 
May  9th,  and  once  on  July  13th  I  found  a  complement 
of  seventeen,  within  a  day  or  two  of  hatching.  In  every 
instance  they  were  in  fields  newly  plowed  and  free  of  all 
vegetation.  The  depth  at  which  they  were  placed  varied 
from  three  to  seven  inches. 

It  is  not  a  little  curious  that,  considering  the  large 
numbers  of  eggs  that  are  to  be  found  in  the  earlier  part 
of  summer,  so  few  very  small  snakes  are  to  be  seen.  I 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  297 

have  never  come  across  one  less  than  four  inches  in 
length,  except  in  the  cases  of  the  brood  of  hog-nose 
snakes  mentioned  above,  and  of  those  which  I  have 
ushered  into  day  by  unceremoniously  breaking  the  egg 
before  the  occupants  were  quite  ready  to  emerge. 

Even  larger  snakes,  those  measuring  from  six  to  ten 
inches  in  length,  are  by  no  means  common.  This  may  be 
due  to  the  fact  that  they  are  surrounded  by  enemies 
which  make  sad  havoc  with  their  numbers,  or  possibly 
some  of  our  smaller  mammals  may  feast  upon  the  eggs. 
Precisely  what  these  enemies  are  I  can  not  determine, 
though  I  am  sure  of  their  existence.  More  than  once  I 
have  seen  skunks  rooting  in  newly-plowed  ground,  and 
at  the  time  it  occurred  to  me  that  they  were  probably 
searching  for  turtles'  or  snakes'  eggs.  Those  of  the  tur- 
tle would  largely  escape  detection,  if  an  animal  searching 
for  them  were  guided  by  scent  alone,  as  they  are  more 
deeply  buried,  and,  except  by  the  snappers,  care  is  taken 
in  obliterating  all  trace  of  the  locality.  In  the  case  of 
the  snakes,  however,  no  such  care  is  exercised  ;  and  their 
eggs  are  buried  in  such  a  shiftless  manner  that  a  hard 
rain  often  exposes  them  to  full  view. 

"While  it  sometimes  happens,  in  early  spring,  that 
snakes  are  met  with  in  such  numbers  and  so  closely  as- 
sociated as  to  appear  as  one  object  with  innumerable 
heads,  I  have  never  seen  anything  similar  to  the  bundles 
or  balls  of  snakes  mentioned  by  some  observers.  True, 
I  once  saw  what  I  believe  to  have  been  fully  fifty  snakes, 
lying  "  all  in  a  heap,"  but  when  I  approached  them,  the 
individuality  of  each  became  apparent,  as  they  scampered 
off  in  every  direction,  regardless  of  their  neighbors'  move- 
ments. A  veritable  bundle  of  snakes  has  been  described 
in  the  "  American  Naturalist "  for  March,  1880,  as  fol- 
lows :  "The  statements  made  by  Humboldt,  as  to  the 


298  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HONE. 

piles  of  snakes  he  saw  in  Guiana,  can  be  verified  here  in 
our  Northern  woods  and  swamps.  I  personally  had  the 
pleasure  of  observing  it  twice,  both  times  very  early  in 
spring,  and  in  localities  which  could  be  called  wilderness. 
I  first  saw  such  a  bundle  of  snakes  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Ilchester,  Howard  County,  Maryland,  on  the  stony 
bank  of  the  Patapsco  River,  heaped  together  on  a  rock 
and  between  big  stones.  It  was  a  very  warm  and  sunny 
location,  where  a  human  being  would  scarcely  disturb 
them.  I  reasoned  that  the  warmth  and  silence  of  that 
secluded  place  brought  them  together.  Some  hundreds 
of  them  could  be  counted,  and  all  of  them  I  found  in  a 
lively  state  of  humor,  hissing  at  me  with  threatening 
glances,  with  combined  forces,  and  with  such  a  persistency 
that  stones  thrown  upon  them  could  not  stop  them,  nor 
alter  the  position  of  a  single  animal.  They  would  make 
the  proper  movements  and  the  stone  would  roll  off.  All 
the  snakes  in  this  lump  were  common  (garter)  snakes.  .  .  . 
The  second  time  I  noticed  a  ball  of  black-snakes  rolling 
slowly  down  a  steep  and  stony  hill-side  on  the  bank  of 
the  same  river." 

Although  so  much  was  said  of  the  black-snake,  when 
speaking  of  serpents  as  a  class,  there  are  yet  points  in  its 
habits  that  deserve  attention.  Perhaps  no  one  of  our 
serpents  is  more  thoroughly  dreaded,  and  with  less  reason. 
It  is  harmless  in  every  sense  of  the  term,  and  yet  in  spite 
of  this  fact,  and  of  the  benefits  which  it  confers  upon  the 
farmer,  these  most  useful  serpents  are  becoming  yearly 
less  numerous. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  feature  in  the  history  of 
the  black-snake  is  the  power  of  "  charming  "  a  bird  or 
small  mammal,  which  it  is  supposed  to  possess.  This  act 
is  said  to  consist  in  exerting,  by  mere  glance  of  the  eye, 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  299 

such  influence  over  the  bird  or  mammal  as  ultimately  to 
deprive  it  of  all  power  of  locomotion.  I  must  confess 
that  I  am  somewhat  skeptical  on  this  point,  although  I 
have  on  several  occasions  witnessed  cases  of  such  "  charm- 
ing," i.  e.,  cases  where  small  birds  were  literally  fright- 
ened to  death  by  the  snakes.  On  careful  examination, 
however,  I  found  that  the  snake  was  suspiciously  near  the 
nest  of  the  victim.  The  bird  evidently  experienced  a 
struggle  between  the  impulse  to  defend  its  nest  and  the 
desire  to  escape  a  dreaded  foe ;  and  this  is,  I  think,  the 
explanation  of  its  short  flights  and  quick  returns,  as 
though  held  by  a  short  string.  A  victim  to  these  oppos- 
ing emotions,  the  bird  finally  became  exhausted  and  fell 
to  the  ground  within  reach  of  the  snake.  Once  I  caught 
such  an  exhausted  bird  and  found  that  it  was  simply 
worn  out.  After  a  half  hour's  rest,  it  flew  away  without 
so  much  as  saying  "  thank  you."  Further,  I  believe  this 
"  charming "  can  only  occur  among  some  of  our  timid 
birds,  like  the  chipping-sparrow,  summer-warbler,  and 
others.  The  biggest  black-snake  that  ever  crawled  could 
no  more  scare  a  common  wren,  than  could  a  frog  in  a 
spring  "  charm  "  you.  Detailed  accounts  of  such  things 
have,  I  know,  been  frequently  published,  and  no  doubt 
they  were  thought  to  be  true  ;  but  in  the  cases  witnessed 
by  me,  a  much  simpler  explanation  can  be  found  in  the 
fact  that  the  snake,  instead  of  exerting  any  occult  power, 
simply  devoured  the  exhausted  bird  that  came  within  its 
reach. 

Ivalm  gives  a  detailed  account  of  the  fascination  ex- 
ercised by  the  rattlesnake  over  squirrels,  and  incidentally 
tells  us  that  the  same  power  is  possessed  by  the  black- 
snake.  The  translator  of  the  volumes,  however,  sees 
nothing  remarkable  about  the  habit,  and  suggests  a  very 
reasonable  explanation  of  the  fact. 


300  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Perhaps  snakes  do  charm  birds,  as  is  popularly  sup- 
posed— but  I  don't  believe  it ! 

Thus  far,  I  have  never  been  able  to  determine  the 
maximum  length  to  which  a  black-snake  may  grow. 
Years  ago,  I  started  a  discussion  upon  this  point  in  a 
weekly  paper,  but  soon  had  occasion  to  regret  my  temeri- 
ty. The  stories  that  were  told  were  beyond  the  lim- 
its of  all  possibility,  and,  though  gravely  assured  that 
black-snakes  ten  feet  long  had  not  only  been  killed  but 
actually  measured,  I  am  free  to  confess  that  I  don't 
believe  it ! 

In  regard  to  the  length  of  snakes  generally,  it  is  safe 
to  say  that,  with  timid  people,  a  great  deal  depends  upon 
the  direction  in  which  the  snake  was  moving  at  the  time 
it  was  seen.  As  my  observing  old  friend  Uz  Gaunt  once 
said  to  me,  "  When  snakes  come  towards  folks,  every  foot 
looks  a  yard  long." 

Within  the  bounds  of  my  usual  rambles  I  have  never 
but  the  once  chanced  upon  that  exquisite  creature,  the 
green  or  summer  snake.  The  locality  is  not,  I  suppose, 
to  their  liking,  though  I  sincerely  wish  that  it  was. 

The  one  specimen  that  I  saw  was  captured  and  kept 
alive  for  several  months.  It  became  very  tame,  and  evi- 
dently recognized  me.  Although  allowed  considerable 
liberty,  it  did  not  seem  to  be  very  active  during  the  day, 
but  was  restless  in  the  evening.  It  seemed  to  be  more 
sensitive  to  cold  than  any  other  of  our  snakes,  and  re- 
mained under  its  little  blanket  when  the  day  was  rainy, 
or  a  strong  east  wind  prevailed.  It  fed  upon  flies,  which 
it  would  take  from  my  hand,  seizing  them  very  leisurely, 
and  swallowing  them  deliberately.  There  was  nothing 
of  the  snap  and  gulp  of  a  salamander  or  toad  about  the 
process.  When,  however,  the  snake  went  fly-hunting  on 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  301 

its  own  account,  there  was  a  very  different  state  of  affairs. 
There  was  still  great  deliberation,  but  only  until  the  mo- 
ment for  action  arrived,  and  then  with  a  snap  the  fly  was 
gone. 

Occasionally  this  pet  snake  would  creep  among  a 
number  of  pots  of  flowers,  and  coil  about  the  green 
branches.  At  such  times,  it  would  frequently  extend 
some  three  or  four  inches  of  its  body  outward  and  beyond 
any  support,  and  thus  remain  as  rigid  and  apparently 
lifeless  as  a  twig.  This,  probably,  was  a  habit  common  to 
the  snake  when  free,  but  why  it  should  be  indulged  in 
under  such  changed  surroundings  I  can  not  imagine. 
Certainly,  it  was  not  for  the  sake  of  seizing  its  food,  for  I 
noticed  that  the  snake  would  assume  this  position  after  a 
hearty  meal,  and  it  did  not  ordinarily  assume  it  when 
asleep.  In  its  proper  home,  such  a  habit  on  the  part  of  a 
small  snake  of  this  color  would  render  it,  for  the  time, 
very  secure  against  such  enemies  as  were  guided  only  by 
sight.  Even  when  standing  very  near  the  rose-bush  upon 
which  my  pet  rested,  I  found  it,  when  in  this  position,  a 
very  inconspicuous  object. 

A  very  common  species,  and  one  that  is  found  over 
the  whole  United  States,  east  of  the  Mississippi  River,  is 
the  handsome  ring-snake.  In  my  immediate  neighbor- 
hood, however,  they  are  not  often  seen.  This,  I  believe, 
arises  more  from  the  care  with  which  they  conceal  them- 
selves than  from  their  scarcity.  Being  naturally  very 
timid,  they  are  ever  on  the  alert,  and,  hearing  an  ap- 
proaching footstep  long  before  there  is  any  chance  of  see- 
ing them,  they  scuttle  away  and  burrow  beneath  the  dead 
leaves,  or  seek  a  hidden  recess  in  some  half-rotten  log.  A 
favorite  locality  with  them  is  beneath  the  loose  bark  of  a 
fallen  tree.  Here  they  not  only  find  shelter,  but  an 
abundance  of  food,  as  they  feed  largely  upon  insect  larvsB 


302  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

and  the  pupae  of   the  large  black  ants  that  have  their 
nests  in  rotten  wood. 

When  captured  they  offer  no  resistance,  and  become 
apparently  reconciled  at  once  to  their  loss  of  freedom. 
They  are  not  of  a  mild  disposition,  but  quite  the  contrary, 
when  placed-in  limited  quarters  with  other  snakes.  Weak 
and  timid  as  they  are,  their  distaste  for  such  company 
rouses  in  them  all  the  energy  they  possess,  and  without 
hesitation  they  try  to  drive  off  the  intruders,  even  if 
twice  their  size  and  strength.  At  such  times,  too,  the 
peculiar,  pungent  odor  belonging  to  them  is  particularly 
noticeable,  and  I  have  thought  that  probably  this  dis- 
agreeable scent  was  exceedingly  offensive  to  other  snakes, 
and  was  therefore  one  of  the  means  of  defense  that  they 


The  actions  of  the  ring-snake,  when  placed  with  other 
species,  has  further  led  me  to  believe  that,  notwithstand- 
ing their  offensive  smell,  the  larger  snakes  occasionally 
attack  and  devour  these  little  fellows ;  but  I  have  never 
been  fortunate  enough  to  prove  this  by  witnessing  an  at- 
tack on  the  part  of  a  large  snake,  nor  have  I  ever  found 
the  remains  of  this  snake  in  the  stomach  of  another. 

Another  one  of  our  snakes  which,  from  its  large  size 
and  brilliant  markings,  is  a  most  attractive  feature  of  dry, 
upland  woods,  is  the  spotted  adder,  which  has  been  given, 
strangely  enough,  the  unusual  name  of  "  thunder-and- 
lightning  snake."  Beyond  darting  its  forked  tongue,  it 
never  even  offers  to  resent  molestation,  except  under  cer- 
tain circumstances  to  which  reference  will  shortly  be 
made. 

A  few  words  in  regard  to  serpents'  tongues.  They 
are  narrow,  cylindrical,  and  forked.  When  the  snake  is 
at  all  disturbed,  the  tongue  is  darted  out  writh  great  rapid- 
ity, and  this  gives  the  animal  a  threatening  appearance. 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  303 

There  the  matter  ends.  The  tongue,  of  itself,  is  as  harm- 
less as  so  much  thistle-down,  and  the  creature  uses  it 
principally,  if  not  wholly,  in  feeling  its  way  along ;  for  a 
snake's  eyes  are  so  placed  that  it  can  not  sea  directly  in 
front  of  it.  Notwithstanding  this  fact,  I  find  the  impres- 
sion common,  even  among  educated  people,  that  the  tongue 
of  a  snake  is  a  veritable  sting,  and  as  certain  to  produce  a 
wound  as  that  of  a  hornet  or  bee.  It  signifies  nothing 
that  no  one  has  ever  been  thus  stung.  These  well-in- 
formed people  insist  that  they  know  that  snakes'  tongues 
are  stings,  and  so  they  keep  clear  of  them. 

To  return  to  the  spotted  adder.  This  snake,  when 
found  in  the  woods  coiled  upon  a  heap  of  dead  leaves, 
will  often  closely  imitate  the  peculiar  rattle  of  the  rattle- 
snake, by  vibrating  the  tail  with  great  rapidity,  and  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  strike  the  leaves  beneath  it.  I  have 
already  called  attention  to  this  mimicry  of  the  rattlesnake 
on  the  part  of  the  hog-nose  snake.  There  it  was,  I 
thought,  a  case  of  accidental  imitation,  the  leaves  beneath 
the  snake  being  unintentionally  struck  by  the  vibrating 
tail.  However  this  may  be,  my  impression  of  this  act 
on  the  part  of  the  spotted  adder  is  that  the  noise  is  pro- 
duced intentionally.  Of  course,  I  do  not  mean  to  say 
that  it  is  so  far  intentional  as  to  be  a  studied  imitation  of 
the  sound  made  by  the  rattlesnake,  that  being  a  point 
that  can  not  be  ascertained,  and  it  would  be  crediting 
them  with  too  great  a  degree  of  intelligence  to  assume 
that  they  studied  the  habits  of  their  fellow-serpents  and 
profited  by  them. 

The  last  spotted  adder  that  I  had  the  pleasure  of  find- 
ing vibrated  the  tail  in  a  very  marked  manner.  When 
first  seen,  tha  snake  was  lying  on  a  thicjk  bed  of  dead  oak- 
leaves  in  the  woods.  It  was  closely  coiled,  and,  when 
disturbed,  raised  its  head,  hissed,  darted  its  tongue,  and 


304  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

at  the  same  time  vibrated  the  tail  very  rapidly  and  in 
such  a  manner  that  it  gently  struck  the  dead  leaves  as  it 
moved  up  and  down.  The  motion  was  distinctly  up  and 
down,  and  not  sideways,  as  in  the  case  of  the  hog-nose 
snake.  The  sound  produced  was  exactly  like  that  of  a 
medium-sized  rattlesnake.  On  removing  the  snake  to  a 
spot  near  by,  where  there  was  only  grass,  I  found  that 
the  movement  of  the  tail  was  not  repeated,  although 
some  time  elapsed  before  I  teased  it.  After  several  ef- 
forts I  replaced  the  snake  among  the  leaves  and  allowed 
it  to  remain  for  more  than  an  hour.  It  made  no  effort  to 
escape,  and,  when  I  returned  suddenly,  it  quickly  coiled 
itself  as  before,  repeated  the  vibratory  movement  of  the 
tail,  and  produced  the  same  rattling  sound  as  before. 
This  can  scarcely  be  considered  as  positive  evidence ;  but 
my  impression  then  was,  and  still  is,  that  the  snake  de- 
pended upon  the  dead  leaves  to  produce  the  rattling 
sound,  and  trusted  to  the  sound  to  frighten  its  tormentor. 
As  we  naturally  associate  this  sound  with  the  similar  but 
very  significant  rattle  of  the  rattlesnake,  are  the  two  spe- 
cies in  any  manner  connected  ? 

A  similar  occurrence  to  that  mentioned  above  has  been 
described  in  the  "American  Naturalist,"  September,  1879, 
and  the  writer  asks  :  "  Is  this  to  be  called  an  example  of 
4  mimicry '  ?  May  it  be  said  that,  far  back  in  the  past,  some 
sagacious  ancestor,  witnessing  that  act  of  intimidation  on 
the  part  of  a  rattlesnake,  and  observing  how  successful 
it  was,  resolved  to  adopt  the  practice  itself,  and  thus, 
through  inheritance,  the  practice  became  ingrafted  upon 
this  species  ?  " 

It  has  not,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  been  shown  that  the 
sound  produced  by  the  vibration  of  the  tail  does  produce 
a  feeling  of  terror  in  the  breast  of  any  creature,  whether 
it  is  attacking  the  snake  or  attacked  by  it.  If  it  be  true 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  SNAKES.  305 

that  snakes  overcome  their  prey  by  rendering  them 
powerless  through  fear,  then  any  sound  that  is  peculiar 
to  snakes  would,  when  heard,  frighten  the  animal,  but 
only  to  such  a  degree  as  to  put  it  on  guard ;  and  such  a 
sound  would  prove  detrimental  to  the  snake's  welfare. 
Even  in  the  case  of  the  rattlesnake,  it  does  not  add  to  the 
horror  that  its  appearance  produces.  We  are  quite  in 
the  dark  as  to  the  reason  why  these  sounds  are  made  ;  but 
that  reason,  be  it  what  it  may,  is  quite  probably  the  same, 
whether  made  by  the  rattlesnakes  with  their  peculiar  ap- 
paratus, or  by  the  simpler  method  adopted  by  the  spotted 
adder.  Certainly,  so  far  as  man  is  concerned,  this  sound 
is  an  almost  certain  means  of  causing  the  snake's  death. 
Had  it  kept  quiet  it  might  have  escaped  observation ;  but 
in  thus  giving  notice  of  its  whereabouts  it  signed  its  own 
death-warrant.  This  has  so  long  been  the  case,  that  if 
the  harmless  spotted  adder  had  possessed  sufficient  intel- 
ligence to  see  the  advantage  of  the  rattle  to  the  rattle- 
snake, and  had  been  determined  to  imitate  it,  as  well  as 
it  could,  it  should  also  have  learned  that  this  same  sound, 
when  made  within  the  hearing  of  some  of  its  enemies, 
would  endanger  its  safety,  if  not  work  its  destruction. 

One  other  thought  arises  in  this  connection.  In  the 
case  of  the  rattlesnake,  admitting  that  the  rattles  have 
been  evolved  whsn  the  environment  was  w^holly  different, 
may  it  not  be  that  the  peculiarity  is  now  retained,  albeit 
no  longer  useful ;  while  with  such  harmless  species  as 
the  hog-nose  snake  and  spotted  adder,  it  is  quite  probable 
that  the  element  of  fear  on  the  part  of  the  snake  plays  an 
important  part,  and  that  this  "rattling"  is  a  result  of 
fright  on  their  part,  rather  than  a  desire  to  excite  a  simi- 
lar feeling  in  their  enemies  ? 

There  is  yet  another  snake,  occasionally  met  with  in 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

this  neighborhood,  known  by  a  score  of  unmeaning  names, 
not  one  of  which  is  characteristic.  De  Kay,  in  the  "  Nat- 
ural History  of  New  York,"  calls  it  the  "  red-snake,"  and 
Jordan,  in  his  "  Manual  of  Vertebrates,"  "  ground-snake." 

It  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  red  snake,  neither  is  it 
even  always  of  a  reddish  color,  nor  does  it  cling  more 
closely  to  the  ground  than  most  of  those  other  serpents 
that  have  been  mentioned.  By  many  it  is  called  the 
"  blind  snake,"  because  of  the  small  size  of  its  head,  and, 
in  fact,  the  head  and  tail  are  so  similar  in  size  and  shape 
that  this  name  is  fully  as  descriptive  as  either  of  the 
others. 

The  few  specimens  that  I  have  seen  have  varied  in 
color  from  a  blue-gray  to  a  reddish  brown ;  but  whatever 
may  be  the  color,  it  is  uniform,  and  this,  together  with  its 
small  size  and  the  absence  of  everything  like  stripes  or 
spots,  at  once  decides  the  identity  of  the  species. 

I  have  been  accustomed,  in  my  field-notes,  to  call  this 
little  serpent  the  "cricket-snake,"  from  the  fact  that  I 
have  twice  found  specimens  with  crickets  in  their  mouths. 
One  of  these  specimens  was  of  a  decided  blue  color,  and 
the  other  a  very  pale  brown,  or  clay  color.  I  associated 
the  color  with  the  surroundings,  and  have  since  won- 
dered whether  or  not,  like  the  tree-toad,  it  might  not  vary 
in  this  respect  with  the  character  of  the  locality  it  chanced 
to  occupy.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  it  is  quite 
harmless,  and  offers  no  resistance  when  handled.  In  its 
general  habits  it  presents  no  striking  peculiarities. 

So  much  for  the  eleven  species  of  snakes  that  I  have 
mentioned.  Twenty  years  of  familiarity  should  have 
yielded  better  results,  but  it  has  not. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

uz  GAUNT'S  SNAKE-STOKY. 

"  WELL,  as  a  sort  of  a  text  to  my  discourse,  let  me  say, 
when  a  snake's  runnin'  away  from  you,  you  can  measure 
it  by  inches ;  but  when  it's  comin'  after  you,  every  inch 
is  a  foot  long.  That's  how  one  feels  about  it. 

"  Now,  when  the  June  fresh'  was  over  the  meadows, 
and  everything  that  wasn't  a  fish  was  afloat,  I  was  busy 
after  ducks  and  anything  else  worth  shootin'.  "Well,  one 
morning,  as  I  was  floatin'  about,  seein'  more  curious  ob- 
jects at  a  glance  than  I  ever  did  before  or  since,  my  eyes 
rested  on  a  big  water-snake  lyin'  full  stretch  on  a  fence- 
rail.  He  was  a  whopper,  now,  I  tell  you.  The  rail  was 
eleven  foot  lono; — I  measured  it — and  the  head  of  the 

O 

snake  was  at  one  end,  and  the  tail  mighty  close  to  the 
other." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that,  Uz  ? "  I  asked  doubtingly. 

"  Don't  interrupt,  boy ;  that's  the  easiest  part  of  it," 
Uz  continued.  "  Well,  I  wanted  the  skin  of  that  snake, 
jnst  to  show  folks ;  so  I  blazed  away.  I  aimed  at  the  mid- 
dle of  the  snake,  and  no  sooner  than  I'd  pulled  trigger, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  about  a  hundred  snakes  raised  up  on 
that  rail  and  seemed  to  make  for  me.  I  came  near  upset- 
tin'  the  boat,  I  was  so  taken  aback.  What  I'd  seen  wasn't 
one  big  snake  at  all,  but  a  whole  swad  of  'em,  and  they 
had  just  twisted  'round  each  other  like  strands  of  a  rope, 


308  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

and  lay  there,  baskin'  in  the  sun,  on  that  fence-rail.  So 
soon  as  I  had  taken  it  all  in,  I  laughed  right  out,  and 
wasn't  scared  a  bit  then ;  but,  boy,  I  wasn't  out  of  the 
woods  by  a  long  shot.  Now  here  comes  the  toughest 
yarn  you  ever  heard  from  me,  at  least  you'll  think  it  a 
yarn." 

"Indeed,  I  will  not,"  I  said  very  earnestly. 

"  You  say  so  now ;  but  never  mind,  and  let  me  have 
all  the  say  for  a  while,"  Uz  continued,  and  I  acquiesced 
by  a  nod  of  the  head. 

"  Well,  I  was  gazin'  'round  at  the  snakes  that  were 
swimming  all  about,  and  some  of  'em  were  climbin'  back 
on  the  fence-rail.  There  were  lots  of  'em,  big  and  little, 
and  every  sort  I  ever  saw  about  here,  I  believe.  Not  want- 
in'  any,  I  turned  off,  arid  sculled  toward  Swan  Island  flood- 
gates. I  found  there  was  a  big  hollow  buttonwood 
lodged  right  across  the  gates.  I  sculled  up  close  to  it, 
expectin'  to  see  somethin'  in  or  about  it,  for  everything 
afloat  then,  you  know,  had  its  living  freight.  I  held  my 
gun  ready,  thinkin'  there  might  be  a  mink  or  otter 
around :  when,  just  as  I  was  scrapin'  against  the  tree, 
down  rattled  a  whoppin'  big  snake  into  the  boat,  and 
another  followin',  and  another  and  another  after  them, 
for  all  I  know.  I  pushed  off,  quick  as  I  could,  but  was 
kind  o'  tangled  in  among  the  branches  at  the  time,  and, 
before  I  got  clear,  there  were  three  thunderin'  big  snakes 
coiled  up  in  the  bottom  of  my  canoe.  I  eyed  'em  pretty 
close,  and  didn't  recognize  'em.  They  had  the  look  of 
the  common  puff-adder,  or  "  hog-nose,"  as  you  call  'em, 
but  didn't  look  the  same.  They  were  most  too  big,  and 
seemed  to  be  spotted  in  a  different  way.  Perhaps  they 
were  all  right  and  harmless,  but  I  didn't  like  their  looks. 
In  a  minute  I  made  up  my  mind  to  get  rid  of  'em  if  I 
could,  and  lifted  my  scull  out  of  the  water.  One  of  'em, 


UZ  G  AUNT'S  SNAKE-STORY.  309 

coiled  up  nearest  to  me,  raised  his  head,  as  I  did  this, 
and  set  his  tail  a-buzzin'  like  mad.  I  heard  the  sound, 
clear  and  clean,  and  saw  that  the  critter  was  a  rattle- 
snake. I  gave  one  look  at  the  other  two,  and  they  was 
the  same.  There  I  sat,  in  the  stern  of  the  little  boat,  with 
three  rattlesnakes  eyin'  me,  and  not  one  of  'em  six  feet 
off.  I  don't  quite  remember  just  what  I  did,  but  some- 
how without  accident  I  got  the  scull  back,  and  started  on. 
Either  the  near  snake  by  his  looks  told  me,  or  some- 
thing else  did,  that  if  I  put  for  dry  land  they  wouldn't 
make  trouble.  Now  it's  a  good  half  mile  to  the  hill-side 
from  the  Swan  Island  gates,  and  I  took  a  straight  course, 
I  tell  you.  Big  fool  that  I  was  for  bein'  so  frightened ; 
I  didn't  keep  much  of  a  look  ahead,  and,  'fore  I  knew  it, 
I  went  bump  into  a  big  saw-log  that  had  come  down  the 
river.  The  boat  came  to  with  a  jerk,  and  up  raised  every 
one  of  them  snakes  fully  a  foot  or  more,  and  didn't  say 
anything,  but  looked  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  Do  that 
again,  Uz  Gaunt,  and  your  goose  is  cooked.'  I  hadn't 
control  of  my  scull  as  I  generally  have,  but  somehow  I 
made  out  to  get  movin'  again.  Luck  was  against  me 
somehow,  and  I  got  into  a  tangle  of  grass  and  brush,  but 
didn't  come  to  a  stand-still.  One  of  the  snakes,  though, 
didn't  like  the  sound  of  the  boat's  bottom  gratin'  over 
the  brush,  so  it  raised  up,  and  coiled  on  a  box  that 
was  lyin'  at  my  feet.  He  settled  on  that  box,  with  one 
lap  of  his  coils  restin'  on  the  toe  of  my  boot.  I  didn't 
dare  to  stir.  All  of  a  sudden  that  foot  began  to  tickle 
like,  and  I  wanted  to  wiggle  my  toes,  but  I  didn't  dare 
to.  Then  that  leg  got  to  sleep,  and  I  couldn't  shift  it. 
It  hadn't  any  feelin'  in  it,  and  I  felt  as  though  I'd  tum- 
ble over  on  one  side.  It  was  no  use.  There  was  that  one 
snake,  on  guard  like,  and  it  was  evident  to  stir  was  cer- 
tain death.  The  boat  didn't  seem  to  move  ahead  worth 


310  E  AMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

a  cent ;  I  kept  my  scull  goin',  but  it  didn't  send  the  boat 
spinnin'  along  as  I've  often  done  when  chasin'  a  wound- 
ed duck.  But  I  did  come  up  to  the  shore  in  time,  right 
close  by  the  Pearson  house  on  the  hill-top,  and  somehow 
everything  came  to  me  all  of  a  sudden  as  the  boat  grated 
on  the  sand.  I  gave  a  jump,  clearin'  the  length  of  the 
boat,  and  made  for  the  hill-top.  i  Uz,  you're  a  fool,'  I 
said  to  myself  before  I'd  taken  many  steps,  and  came  to 
a  stop.  There  I  was,  free  as  air,  yet  runnin'  as  though 
the  snakes  was  after  me.  Soberin'  down  a  bit,  I  walked 
back  toward  the  boat,  and  peered  'round  very  careful, 
I  tell  you.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  snakes  on  land, 
and  I  went  close  up  to  the  boat.  There  the  three  ver- 
min were,  sure  enough.  I  didn't  know  just  what  to  do. 
I'd  left  my  gun  in  the  boat,  besides,  forgettin'  all  about 
it  in  my  hurry ;  besides,  I  couldn't  have  shot  anyhow 
without  hurtin'  the  boat,  and  it  was  my  new  cedar  skiff. 
Thinkin'  a  minute.  I  cut  a  stout  saplin',  and,  getting 
near  enough,  I  gave  one  of  'em  a  pat  on  the  head,  and 
straightened  him  out,  and  then  tackled  t'other  two.  They 
didn't  show  any  fight,  and  I  got  through  all  right,  and, 
gettin'  in  my  boat  again,  I  pitched  'em  out  on  the  sand. 
Somehow  they'd  a  sort  of  natural  look,  now  they  were 
dead,  and,  lookin'  closer,  hang  me  if  every  snake's  tail 
wasn't  as  smooth  as  a  whip-lash !  Oh !  but  I  was  mad. 
To  think  of  bein'  scared  out  of  my  wits  by  next  to  noth- 
in',  for  every  one  was  a  harmless  adder.  From  then  till 
now  I've  hated  snakes,  and  always  shall." 

I  laughed  at  his  story,  and  he  joined  me,  so  far  as  to 
smile,  for  Uz  never  laughed  aloud,  I  believe. 

"  I  never  supposed  you  saw  anything  that  far  wrong, 
Uz,"  I  remarked,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  don't  often,  I  believe ;  but  when  it  comes  to  snakes, 
I'm  sure  of  nothin'.  It's  with  me,  when  I  see  snakes,  as 


HZ  G AUNT'S  SNAKE-STORY.  311 

with  many  people  who  see  commoner  sights.  I  jumped 
at  a  conclusion,  and  conceited  I  never  could  jump  in  a 
wrong  direction.  Fact  is,  you've  got  to  stop  a  bit  and 
consider,  whatever  you  do.  With  most  of  us  it's  a  good 
deal  like  walkin'  over  Watson's  meadows.  Often  greener 
grass  grows  on  quicksand  than  the  stiff  dirt ;  but  it  don't 
do  to  walk  on  it,  nevertheless." 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

SHORT    STUDIES    OF   BATKACHIANS. 

IT  is  with,  some  hesitation  that  I  venture  to  utilize 
the  few  notes  that  I  have  made  upon  the  habits  of  the 
many  batrachians  common  to  central  New  Jersey.  So 
promising  a  field  is  here  offered,  that  I  feel  ashamed  at 
not  having  long  since  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity 
of  studying  this  class  of  animals,  in  spite  of  the  difficulty 
which  is  often  experienced  of  observing  them  to  advan- 
tage when  in  their  chosen  haunts.  A  salamander,  for 
instance,  will  remain  absolutely  motionless  for  an  hour 
on  or  under  some  dead  leaf,  in  the  trickling  waters  that 
wend  their  way  riverward  from  a  mossy  spring.  To  sit 
or  stand  for  an  hour,  and  watch  this  immovable  creature, 
is  both  painful  and  monotonous,  and  when,  at  last,  you 
disturb  it,  perhaps  accidentally,  away  it  goes  to  some 
similar  spot  near  by,  and  resumes  its  motionless  attitude. 
To  spend  more  time,  perhaps  plagued  the  while  with 
suspicions  of  possible  rheumatism,  and  serenaded  by  mos- 
quitoes, is  scarcely  practicable,  and  studies  of  salamander 
life  soon  become  a  bore.  That  their  whole  time  is  not 
spent  in  lying  still,  or  in  creeping  in  the  mud,  is  the  one 
fact  about  which  I  am  certain;  and  however  discour- 
aging this  result  may  be,  it  is  possible  that  some  future 
observer  may  have  better  luck. 

The  toads  and  frogs  are  more  easily  observed,  and 
their  habits  have  been  so  closely  studied  that  there  are 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIAN8.  313 

few  people  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  prominent 
points  of  their  life-histories.  This,  however,  need  not 
deter  us  from  studying  them,  as  probably  not  one  half 
the  whole  truth  is  yet  known ;  and,  besides,  there  are 
many  prevalent  errors  to  be  corrected. 

Referring  to  frogs,  I  recall  the  words  of  Peter  Kalm, 
when  he  visited  this  neighborhood.  One  hundred  and 
thirty-two  years  ago,  yesterday  (May  31st),  he  records 
that  "  toward  night,  after  the  tide  had  begun  to  ebb,  and 
the  wind  was  quite  subsided,  we  could  not  proceed,  but 
dropped  our  anchor  about  seven  miles  from  Trenton,  and 
passed  the  night  there.  The  woods  were  full  of  fire-flies 
(Lampyris),  which  flew  like  sparks  of  fire  between  the 
trees,  and  sometimes  across  the  river.  In  the  marshes 
the  bullfrogs  now  and  then  began  their  hideous  roaring, 
and  more  than  a  hundred  of  them  roared  together.  The 
whip-poor-will  was  likewise  heard  everywhere."  While 
I  am  writing  I  glance  from  my  paper,  through  the  study- 
window,  and  I  see  the  very  spot  where  Kalm  tarried  on 
that  summer  night.  The  same  marshes  are  there,  and 
remains  of  the  forest ;  and  on  any  pleasant  summer  night 
we  may  still  see  myriads  of  fire-flies,  and  hear  the  <;  hide- 
ous roaring  "  of  the  frogs,  and  scarcely  less  monotonous 
call  of  the  whippoorwill. 

Let  us  now  consider  these  various  frogs  and  salaman- 
ders seriatim. 

Perhaps  the  most  common  of  all  our  frogs  is  that  of 
which  Kalm  has  given  a  very  good  description  in  his 
"  Travels  in  North  America."  Speaking  of  it,  he  says  ; 
"  22ana  ocellata  are  a  kind  of  frogs  here  (New  Jersey), 
which  the  Swedes  call  sill-hoppe  tosser,  i.  e.,  herring-hop- 
pers, and  which  now  (March)  began  to  quack  in  the 
evening  and  at  night,  in  swamps,  pools,  and  ponds.  The 
name  which  the  Swedes  give  them  is  derived  from  their 

14 


314:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

beginning  to  make  their  noise  in  spring,  at  the  same 
time  when  the  people  here  go  catching  what  are  called 
herrings,  which,  however,  differ  greatly  from  the  true 
European  herrings.  These  frogs  have  a  peculiar  note, 
which  is  not  like  that  of  our  European  frogs,  but  rather 
corresponds  with  the  chirping  of  some  large  birds,  and 
can  nearly  be  expressed  by  pi-cet  (pee-seet).  With  this 
noise  they  continue  throughout  a  great  part  of  spring, 
beginning  their  noise  soon  after  sun-setting  and  finishing 
it  just  before  sun-rising.  The  sound  was  sharp,  but  yet 
so  loud  that  it  could  be  heard  at  a  great  distance.  When 
they  expected  rain  they  cried  much  worse  than  commonly, 
and  began  in  the  middle  of  the  day  or  when  it  grew 
cloudy,  and  the  rain  came  usually  six  hours  after.  As  it 
snowed  on  the  16th  of  the  next  month  (April),  and  blew 
very  violently  all  day,  there  was  not  the  least  sign  of 
them  at  night,  and  during  the  whole  time  that  it  was  cold, 
and  while  the  snow  was  on  the  fields,  the  frost  had  so 
silenced  them,  that  we  could  not  hear  one  ;  but,  as  soon  as 
the  mild  weather  returned,  they  began  their  noise  again. 
They  were  very  timorous,  and  it  was  difficult  to  catch 
them,  for  as  soon  as  a  person  approached  the  place  where 
they  lived,  they  are  quite  silent,  and  none  of  them  ap- 
peared. It  seems  that  they  hide  themselves  entirely 
under  water,  except  the  tip  of  the  snout,  when  they  cry ; 
for,  when  I  stepped  to  the  pond  where  they  were  in,  I 
could  not  observe  a  single  one  hopping  into  the  water. 
I  could  not  see  any  of  them  before  I  had  emptied  a  whole 
pool  where  they  lodged  in.  Their  color  is  a  dirty  green, 
variegated  with  spots  of  brown.  When  they  are  touched, 
they  make  a  noise  and  moan ;  they  then  sometimes  as- 
sume a  form  as  if  they  had  blown  up  the  hind  part  of  the 
back,  so  that  it  makes  a  high  elevation ;  and  then  they  do 
not  stir,  though  touched." 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  315 

This  "  herring-frog,"  as  it  is  usually  called,  is,  I  be- 
lieve, the  first  to  "  give  tongue  "  on  the  return  of  spring. 
Hibernation  with  them  is,  at  best,  an  uncertain  and  impa- 
tient sleep ;  and  even  as  early  as  the  middle  of  February, 
if  there  be  a  few  consecutive  warm  days,  they  will  com- 
mence what  is  complimentarily  called,  nowadays,  their 
song. 

There  is  a  saying  common  among  my  neighbors  that 
these  herring-frogs  must  be  "  shut  up "  three  times  by 
frost  before  spring  fairly  opens.  I  made  a  note  of  this 
years  ago,  and  subsequent  observation  has  shown  that 
it  would  be  nearer  right  to  say  "three  times  three" 
times. 

The  eggs  of  this  frog  are  deposited  on  the  margins  of 
quiet  waters,  and  adhere  loosely  to  twigs  and  dead  grass. 
In  a  short  time  (I  am  not  sure  just  how  many  days,  but 
think  it  varies  with  the  temperature  considerably)  the 
eggs  are  hatched,  and  then  the  waters  become  fairly  alive 
with  diminutive  tadpoles. 

By  this  time  these  herring-frogs  have  become  com- 
paratively silent,  and  are  careless  of  the  welfare  of  their 
young.  They  leave  the  water  for  much  of  the  time, 
though  they  never  wander  far  from  it.  In  the  tall  grass 
that  grows  along  the  banks  of  every  pool  they  forage  for 
flies;  and  they  seem  to  live  without  any  ambition,  save 
that  of  supplying  their  daily  wants  and  guarding  against 
the  approach  of  snakes,  by  whom  they  are  often  sur- 
prised. A  chapter  on  this  subject  remains  to  be  written. 
That  there  is  a  homoeopathic  dose  of  mind  in  a  frog's 
cranium,  I  doubt  not ;  but  I  am  free  to  admit,  so  far  as 
these  sill-hoppe  tossers  of  the  Swedes  are  concerned,  that 
I  have  never  found  much  evidence  of  the  fact.  They 
approach  as  near  to  being  mere  automata  as  any  creatures 
I  know. 


316  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

The  pickerel-frog  may  be  said  to  differ  from  the  pre- 
ceding in  the  number  and  position  of  a  few  spots  on  the 
back :  the  herring-frog  has  the  spots  in  two  rows,  while 
in  the  pickerel-frog  they  are  in  four.  This  is  the  one 
apparent  difference,  though  there  may  be  others  not  as 
marked.  This  slight  variation  in  color  and  markings  is 
constant  and  uniform,  and  it  must  have  been  brought 
about  by  some  potent  cause,  supposing  that  these  and 
our  other  frogs  are  derived  from  some  ancestral  type 
which  is  at  once  like,  yet  unlike,  the  five  species  that  now 
frequent  our  meadows ;  and  no  other  supposition  is  ten- 
able. 

I  have  tried  in  vain  to  detect  some  difference  in  habit, 
or  variation  in  date  of  appearance,  or  preference  for  dif- 
ferent localities,  of  these  two  kinds  of  frogs ;  but  all  in 
vain.  Where  the  one  is,  there  we  find  the  other  also, 
arid  the  two  species  even  keep  up  their  croakings  in 
concert.  Possibly,  there  may  be  a  little  difference  in 
their  voices ;  but  of  this  I  am  not  sure.  Of  the  fact,  that 
they  belong  to  two  species,  there  can  be  no  doubt,  and,  as 
this  difference  can  not  be  one  of  color  alone,  it  is  idle  to 
suppose  that  we  are  acquainted  with  the  full  history  of 
their  lives.  This  we  shall  never  be  until  we  discover 
some  action  that  is  habitually  performed  by  one  and  not 
by  the  other,  or  until  we  discover  some  places  that  are 
frequented  by  one  and  as  carefully  shunned  by  the  other. 

What  claims,  it  may  be  asked,  have  these  frogs  upon 
us  ?  This  is  easily  answered.  They  are  not  only  great 
checks  upon  an  undue  increase  of  insect  life,  but  they  are 
also  scavengers.  They  do  not,  it  is  true,  wander  about 
the  uplands  in  search  of  decaying  animal-matter ;  but  in 
the  waters  they  frequent  they  consume  much  that  would 
otherwise  render  them  impure.  The  minute  larvre  of 
aquatic  insects  are  destroyed  by  them  in  vast  quantities, 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  317 

and  such  decaying  animal-matter  as  collects  in  every 
spring  and  running  brook  is  likewise  consumed.  If  care 
be  taken  to  exclude  every  frog  and  salamander  from  a 
spring,  it  will  be  found  that  very  soon  the  water  will  not 
be  so  pure,  however  strong  the  current,  as  is  that  of  a 
frog-frequented  spring.  I  have  proved  this  by  several 
careful  experiments,  and  it  can  only  be  explained  by  the 
fact  that  these  frogs  feed  upon  such  organic  matter  as 
would,  in  time,  if  allowed  to  remain,  affect  the  quality  of 
the  water.  In  these  frogs,  then,  we  have  beautiful,  harm- 
less, useful,  and  cheerful,  if  not.  strictly  speaking,  mu- 
sical animals.  Is  not  their  title  to  our  good  wishes  well 
established  ? 

There  are  other  frogs,  though,  that  will  attract  atten- 
tion, if  we  wander  by  the  brookside,  with  an  eye  to  what- 
ever is  to  be  seen.  A  beautiful  species,  usually  called 
the  spring-frog,  is  likewise  very  abundant  in  the  meadows, 
where,  all  the  day  long,  he  sits  quietly  on  the  bank  of  a 
ditch,  unless  alarmed,  when  he  gives  a  great,  flying  leap, 
and  dives  into  the  depths  with  a  loud  splash.  Not  content 
with  this,  he  burrows  into  the  mud  or  hides  in  the  grass, 
and  it  then  takes  a  sharp  pair  of  eyes  indeed  to  discover 
him.  "When  I  startle  a  herring  or  pickerel  frog,  I  can 
not  tell  which  it  is  until  I  get  a  glance  at  the  spots  on 
the  back.  Both  move  alike ;  and  they  jump  into  the 
water  with  a  neat  dive  that  scarcely  ruffles  the  surface. 
It  is  otherwise,  however,  with  the  spring-frog.  When  I 
see  him  flying  through  the  air,  with  all  legs  well  spread, 
and  hear  the  splash,  I  say  at  once,  "  clamitans,"  and  nine 
times  in  ten  I  am  right. 

This  large  green  frog  is  not  so  sensitive  to  cold  as 
the  preceding,  and,  though  "  mum  "  after  a  frost,  it  will 
nevertheless  be  fully  as  active  as  in  summer,  and  will 
skip  over  the  dead  grass  with  marvelous  speed  if  it  sus- 


318  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

pects  any  danger.  While,  perhaps,  not  the  earliest  to  sing 
during  the  few  spring  days  which  we  sometimes  have 
late  in  February,  yet  it  follows  very  closely  in  the  wake 
of  the  others,  and  repeats  much  the  same  sounds,  but  in 
a  deeper  voice — a  sort  of  bass  accompaniment  to  the 
treble  of  the  herring-frog.  Here,  perhaps,  it  would  be 
well  to  mention  that  Kalm's  impression,  derived  from 
the  Swedes,  that  the  singing  of  the  herring-frog  an- 
nounced the  arrival  of  the  herring,  is  not  quite  correct. 
They  anticipate  the  coming  of  the  fish,  by  from  two  to 
three  weeks,  in  five  years  out  of  every  six.  This  is  true 
of  late  years,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  the  herring  ever  came 
any  earlier  than  now. 

I  have  usually  found  the  eggs  of  this  frog,  in  May, 
attached  to  long  grass.  They  are  larger,  and  are  depos- 
ited in  bulky,  irregular  masses  of  a  glossy,  gelatinous 
substance,  which  holds  them  safe,  even  in  strong  currents 
of  water,  until  the  eggs  are  hatched.  So  conspicuous  are 
these  masses  of  ova,  that  I  have  often  wondered  why  they 
were  not  devoured  by  the  fishes  and  turtles.  These  ani- 
mals, however,  do  not  appear  to  molest  them  ;  at  least,  I 
have  never  seen  either  turtles  or  fish  in  the  act.  This  is 
negative  evidence,  it  is  true,  and  must  go  for  what  it  is 
worth. 

Unlike  the  frogs  already  mentioned,  the  spring-frog 
does  not  hibernate  with  the  regularity  supposed  to  be 
characteristic  of  these  animals  generally.  Every  winter 
I  have  found  that  several  took  up  their  residence,  for  the 
season,  in  the  deep  water  of  a  large  spring  near  the  house. 
This  gave  me  abundant  opportunities  for  observing  them, 
and  I  found  that  while  they  remained  at  the  bottom  of 
the  spring  more  than  they  did  during  the  summer,  yet 
they  occasionally  came  to  the  surface,  and  stuck  the  tips 
of  their  noses  just  out  of  the  water.  I  believe  they  took 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHTANS.  319 

no  food  from  November  to  March.  Indeed,  I  could  not 
see  an}T  living  prey  for  them  to  take  ;  and  the  fact  that,  in 
several  specimens  which  I  dissected,  the  digestive  tract 
was  quite  empty,  confirmed  me  in  the  supposition. 

Occasionally,  in  my  rambles,  I  have  chanced  upon 
deeper  ponds  and  more  retired  spots,  where,  thinking 
naturally  of  fish,  rather  than  frogs,  I  have  been  startled, 
as  I  passed  carelessly  along,  by  a  loud  splash,  or  a  deep 
note  as  hoarse  as  that  of  a  bull  in  some  neighboring  pas- 
ture, but  not  otherwise  similar.  I  had  startled  a  bull- 
frog. 

From  the  high  bank,  into  the  deep  water,  away  he 
had  gone,  and  my  chance  of  seeing  him  again  was  indeed 
small.  This  deep-voiced,  noisy,  splashing  frog  is  the 
largest  of  the  five  species  common  to  New  Jersey,  and, 
when  full  grown,  it  is  a  rather  formidable-looking  creat- 
ure, though,  like  all  the  frogs,  it  is  of  course  quite  harm- 
less. 

The  bull-frogs  did  not  fail  to  attract  the  attention  of 
Kalm  when  traveling  through  New  Jersey,  and  he  re- 
lates some  marvelous  stories  concerning  them.  His  ac- 
count is  as  follows :  "  Bull-frogs  are  a  large  species  of 
frogs,  which  I  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  and  seeing 
to-day  (May  5th,  1749).  As  I  was  riding  out  I  heard  a 
roaring  before  me,  and  I  thought  it  was  a  bull  in  the 
bushes,  on  the  other  side  of  the  dyke,  though  the  sound 
was  rather  more  hoarse  than  that  of  a  bull.  I  was,  how- 
ever, afraid  that  a  bad  goring  bull  might  be  near  me, 
though  I  did  not  see  him,  and  I  continued  to  think  so 
till  some  hours  after,  when  I  talked  with  some  Swedes 
about  the  bull-frogs,  and,  by  their  account,  I  immediately 
found  that  I  had  heard  their  voice  ;  for  the  Swedes  told 
me  that  there  were  numbers  of  them  in  the  dyke.  I 


320  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

afterward  hunted  for  them.  Of  all  the  frogs  in  this 
country  this  is  doubtless  the  greatest.  I  am  told  that 
toward  autumn,  as  soon  as  the  air  begins  to  grow  a  little 
cool,  they  hide  themselves  under  the  mud  which  lies  at 
the  bottom  of  ponds  and  stagnant  waters,  and  lie  there 
torpid  during  winter.  As  soon  as  the  weather  grows 
mild  toward  summer  they  begin  to  get  out  of  their 
holes,  and  croak.  If  the  spring,  that  is,  if  the  mild 
weather,  begins  early,  they  appear  about  the  end  of  March, 
old  style ;  but  if  it  happens  late,  they  tarry  under  water 
till  late  in  April.  Their  places  of  abode  are  ponds  and 
bogs  with  stagnant  water ;  they  are  never  in  any  flowing 
water.  "When  many  of  them  croak  together  they  make 
an  enormous  noise.  Their  croak  exactly  resembles  the 
roaring  of  an  ox  or  bull  which  is  somewhat  hoarse. 
They  croak  so  loud  that  two  people  talking  by  the  side 
of  a  pond  can  not  understand  each  other.  They  croak 
all  together ;  then  stop  a  little,  and  begin  again.  It  seems 
as  if  they  had  a  captain  among  them :  for  when  he  be- 
gins to  croak,  all  the  others  follow ;  and  wThen  he  stops, 
the  others  are  all  silent.  When  this  captain  gives  the 
signal  for  stopping,  you  hear  a  note  like  '  Po — 0£>/' 
coming  from  him.  In  day-time  they  seldom  make  any 
great  noise,  unless  the  sky  is  covered.  But  the  night  is 
their  croaking-time ;  and  when  all  is  calm  you  may  hear 
them,  though  you.  are  near  a  mile  and  a  half  off.  When 
they  croak  they  commonly  are  near  the  surface  of  the 
water,  under  the  bushes,  and  have  their  heads  out  of 
water.  Therefore,  by  going  slowly  one  may  get  close  up 
to  them  before  they  go  away.  As  soon  as  they  are  quite 
under  water  they  think  themselves  safe,  though  the  water 
be  very  shallow. 

"  Sometimes  they  sit  at  a  good   distance  from  the 
pond ;   but  as  soon  as  they  suspect  any  danger,  they  has- 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATEACHIANS.  321 

ten  with  great  leaps  into  the  water.  They  are  very  ex- 
pert at  hopping.  A  full-grown  bull-frog  takes  near  three 
yards  at  one  hop.  I  have  often  been  told  the  following 
story  by  the  old  Swedes,  which  happened  here  at  the 
time  when  the  Indians  lived  with  the  Swedes.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  Indians  are  excellent  runners ;  I  have 
seen  them,  at  Governor  Johnson's,  equal  the  best  horse  in 
its  swiftest  course,  and  almost  pass  it.  Therefore,  in 
order  to  try  how  well  the  bull-frogs  could  leap,  some  of  the 
Swedes  laid  a  wager  with  a  young  Indian  that  he  could 
not  overtake  the  frog,  provided  it  had  two  leaps  before- 
hand. They  carried  a  bull- frog,  which  they  had  caught 
in  a  pond,  upon  a  field,  and  burnt  his  hips ;  the  fire  and 
the  Indian,  who  endeavored  to  be  closely  up  with  the 
frog,  had  such  an  effect  upon  the  animal  that  it  made  its 
long  hops  across  the  field  as  fast  as  it  could.  The  Indian 
began  to  pursue  the  frog  with  all  his  might  at  the  proper 
time :  the  noise  he  made  in  running  frightened  the  poor 
frog ;  probably  it  was  afraid  of  being  tortured  with  fire 
again,  and  therefore  it  redoubled  its  leaps,  and  by  that 
means  it  reached  the  pond  before  the  Indian  overtook  it. 

"In  some  years  they  are  more  numerous  than  in 
others:  nobody  could  tell  whether  the  snakes  had  ever 
ventured  to  eat  them,  though  they  eat  all  the  lesser  kinds 
of  frogs.  The  women  are  no  friends  to  these  frogs,  be- 
cause they  kill  and  eat  young  ducklings  and  goslings ; 
sometimes  they  carry  off  chickens  that  come  too  near  the 
ponds.  I  have  not  observed  that  they  bite  when  they 
are  held  in  the  hands,  though  they  have  little  teeth ; 
when  they  are  beaten  they  cry  out  almost  like  children. 
I  was  told  that  some  eat  the  thighs  of  the  hind  legs,  and 
that  they  are  very  palatable." 

If  the  above  is  correct  in  all  its  parts,  then  we  have 
few,  if  any,  such  bull-frogs  as  Kalrn  saw  in  1749.  The 


322  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

environment  has  grown  yearly  less  desirable,  and  degen- 
eration has  set  in.  In  a  few  score  generations  more  the 
mammoth  bnll-frog  itself  will  have  gone  the  way  of  the 
mastodon  and  great  auk,  and  there  will  be  left  but  a  few 
pygmy  descendants  to  testify  to  its  great  size. 

Let  us,  however,  take  up  Kalm's  description  by  sec- 
tions, and  see  how  it  applies  to  the  indefinitely  great- 
great-grandchildren  of  the  frogs  of  his  time.  And,  first 
of  all,  as  to  its  voice  :  can  any  one  say  now  that  the 
familiar  notes,  often  and  aptly  likened  to  "  jug-o'-rum, 
jug-o'-rum,"  has  a  bovine  sound  ?  Of  late  I.  have  lin- 
gered long  in  the  meadows,  listening  to  the  bull-frogs  in 
the  ditch  hard  by,  and  then  to  the  mooing  of  the  cows 
as  they  come  from  the  pasture.  Perhaps  there  is  a  simi- 
larity, but  I  could  never  detect  it.  So  common,  how- 
ever, is  it  to  hear  the  comparison  made,  that  I  suppose 
the  resemblance  must  have  been  true  of  them  formerly, 
if  not  now.  Gabriel  Thomas,  in  his  quaint  little  history 
of  Pennsylvania,  published  in  1698,  speaking  of  the  vari- 
ous sorts  of  frogs,  says  there  is  "  the  Bull  Frog,  which 
makes  a  roaring  noise,  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from 
that  well  known  of  the  Beast  from  whom  it  takes  its 
Name."  I  can  only  go  so  far  as  to  admit  it  is  a  deep 
bass  note,  but  always  well  defined,  and  not  a  roar,  even 
when  a  dozen  are  croaking  together.  Kalm's  description 
of  their  croaking  in  concert  is  excellent,  but  it  would  be 
better  to  say  that  each  concert  has  its  leader,  rather  than 
each  company  its  captain.  The  latter,  if  true,  would  be 
evidence  of  considerable  intelligence ;  but  it  is  only  ap- 
parently true  of  them.  I  have  very  carefully  watched 
the  bull-frogs  in  a  pond  near  my  house,  and  have  found 
that  the  croaking  of  the  "  captain "  is  not  always  that 
of  the  same  individual.  At  times  the  initial  croak 
would  come  from  one  side  of  the  pond,  then  the  other. 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  323 

and  so  continue  to  vary.  This  shows  at  once  that  not 
any  one  individual  started  and  stopped  the  croaking  of 
its  companions. 

As  to  their  leaping,  Kalm  is  extravagant  in  his  esti- 
mates. He  says  "near  three  yards  at  one  leap,"  but 
does  not  say  how  near.  The  biggest  old  "  bloody-noun  " 
I  could  ever  find  could  not,  or  would  not,  hop  three 
yards  at  one  hop  for  me,  although  I  spurred  him  on  in 
many  ways,  even  to  scaring  him  with  a  snake.  The 
longest  hop  fell  short  of  seven  feet  by  some  inches. 
Perhaps  the  frogs  in  Kalm's  time  were  larger  than  those 
that  grow  about  here  to-day,  or  it  may  be  that  they  made 
spring-boards  of  lily-leaves,  and  so  had  a  decided  advan- 
tage in  jumping.  As  to  the  running-match  with  the 
Indian,  it  is  evident  that  the  latter  could  not  have  been 
in  running  condition  that  day,  or  he  would  have  done 
better ;  possibly  he  was  a  little  rheumatic.  The  fact  is 
that  our  modern  frogs  get  out  of  wind  after  three  or  four 
consecutive  hops,  and  are  readily  overtaken ;  and  it  is 
probably  for  this  reason  that  they  are  careful  never  to 
wander  too  far  from  water,  as  they  know  that,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  distance  they  go  inland,  they  increase  the 
danger  of  exposure  to  snakes;  but,  when  on  the  bank 
of  the  pond  or  ditch,  they  can  easily  avoid  an  enemy  by 
one  leap  into  the  water,  and  often  into  the  deeper  mud 
beneath  it.  Stupid  as  frogs  appear  to  be,  they  merit  the 
credit  of  this  degree  of  intelligence.  Again,  it  is  strange 
that  there  should  have  been  any  doubt  as  to  the  fact  that 
snakes  ate  the  bull-frogs,  however  large  they  might  grow  ; 
for  it  is  no  uncommon  occurrence  for  a  slender  whip-lash 
of  a  garter-snake  to  dispose  of  a  meadow-mouse.  By 
some  mechanical  ingenuity  and  physiological  black  art, 
their  little  jaws  drop  apart  wide  enough  to  take  in  the 
mouse,  and  down  it  goes  into  a  darker  retreat  than  any 


324  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

that  it  had  previously  explored.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  entertain  the  suggestion  that  perhaps  snakes  formerly 
did  not  eat  bull-frogs,  as  that  is  nonsense ;  but  strange 
indeed  is  it  that  Kalm  should  have  been  in  any  doubt 
about  the  matter. 

It  is,  on  the  other  hand,  all  too  true  u  that  they  are 
very  palatable,"  and  to  this  unfortunate  circumstance 
must  be  ascribed  the  fact  that  these  great  goggle-eyed 
frogs,  that  lend  such  a  charm  to  quiet  ponds  and  hidden 
swampy  hollows,  are  now  comparatively  scarce. 

Out  of  the  meadows  and  into  the  woods,  away  from 
the  muddy  ponds  and  stagnant  puddles,  to  the  leafy 
haunts  of  squirrels  and  chipmunks ;  and  here,  if  it  be 
even  a  little  damp,  we  may  chance  upon  another  frog, 
which  in  color,  habits,  and  disposition  is  unlike  all  the 
others.  I  mean  the  little  brown  wood-frog.  It  is  liter- 
ally quick  as  a  flash,  and  for  some  reason  has  a  great 
dread  of  mankind  ;  at  least,  it  takes  wonderful  leaps,  and 
plenty  of  them,  whenever  any  one  happens  to  come  too 
near.  I  know  of  no  harder  task  than  to  chase  a  wood- 
frog  over  uneven  ground. 

Except  in  April,  when  they  congregate  at  some  neigh- 
boring pond  and  lay  their  eggs,  these  frogs  frequent  the 
woods  the  year  through,  feeding  on  flies  and  such  small 
fry  until  frost  comes,  when  they  burrow  some  two  feet 
deep  in  damp  earth,  and  there  they  remain  until  the 
weather  has  become  fairly  spring-like. 

By  people  who  ought  to  know  better  these  wood- 
frogs  are  confounded  with  the  tree-toads.  Why  two 
creatures  so  unlike  should  be  mistaken  for  one  another 
passeth  comprehension  ;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  the  zoological 
literature,  and  thousands  of  school-teachers,  such  is  the 
fact.  Worse  than  this :  I  know  of  a  lad,  with  a  correct 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  325 

knowledge  of  our  batrachians,  who  dared  to  correct  his 
teacher  on  this  matter  while  on  a  Saturday  fishing-frolic, 
and  who  was  in  turn  "  corrected  "  by  the  teacher  on  the 
following  Monday. 

Here,  then,  we  have  five  well-marked  species  of  frogs, 
all  found  in  great  numbers  in  this  one  limited  locality, 
and  available  to  the  student  every  day  in  the  year.  That 
they  have  taught  me  so  little  is  my  fault,  not  theirs. 

A  toad-like  creature,  yet  differing  from  toads  and 
frogs,  is  known  among  naturalists  as  the  "  hermit  spade- 
foot."  It  is  seldom  seen ;  more  seldom  is  it  to  find  any 
person  who  has  knowingly  seen  one,  and,  if  it  should  hap- 
pen to  be  accidentally  encountered,  the  average  citizen 
would,  if  he  looked  at  it  at  all,  probably  say  "  hop-toad," 
and  never  suspect  that  it  was  a  very  different  animal.  But, 
then,  why  should  he,  as  the  average  citizen  does  not  usually 
want  knowledge  that  can  not  be  converted  into  dollars 
and  cents? 

The  spade-foot  is  wholly  terrestrial  in  its  habits.  Like 
the  frogs  and  hop-toads,  it  goes  to  the  water  to  spawn, 
but  at  no  other  time.  The  eggs  are  placed  around  a 
single  spike  of  grass,  and  are  said  to  hatch  in  six  days. 
The  growth  of  the  tadpoles  "  is  very  rapid,  not  more  than 
two  or  three  weeks  elapsing  before  the  young  toads  leave 
the  water." 

My  first  acquaintance  with  the  spade-foot  was  in  May, 
18T4.  Passing,  early  one  morning,  by  the  side  of  a 
shallow  pond,  thickly  overgrown  with  rank  vegetation, 
my  attention  was  called  to  a  peculiar  and  very  loud  noise, 
coming  from  the  water,  and  which  was  quite  new  to  me. 
As  has  been  remarked  by  a  prominent  naturalist,  "  the 
peculiar,  harsh  croaking  of  this  singular  toad  must  be 
heard  to  be  appreciated,  and  can  then  never  be  confounded 


326  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

with  that  of  any  other  species.  The  only  sound  we  can 
liken  it  to  is  that  of  a  heavily-loaded,  creaking  wagon 
rolling  over  hard  and  uneven  ground."  As  I  can  not 
improve  upon  it,  I  will  let  this  go  as  a  description  of  the 
noise  spade- foots  make ;  but  it  does  not,  by  any  means, 
do  justice  to  their  squealing,  grunt-like  croaks. 

On  hearing,  for  the  first'  time,  this  fearful  racket,  I 
straightway  turned  my  steps  pondward,  and  found  the 
place  literally  alive  with  the  toads.  At  first  glance  I 
took  them  to  be  the  common  species,  but  was  puzzled  by 
the  sound.  Then,  on  closer  inspection,  I  found  them  to 
be  the  rare  spade-foots.  They  continued  in  the  pond  for 
five  days,  but  made  but  little  noise  during  the  last  two. 
On  the  sixth  day  there  was  not  one  to  be  found  anywhere 
about.  I  searched  for  several  days,  but  found  no  trace 
of  them,  nor  have  I  seen  one  in  the  eight  years  that  have 
passed  since  that  time. 

This  toad  may  be  described  as  a  terrestrial  batrachian 
which  burrows  "in  the  damp  earth,  a  few  inches  below 
the  surface,  which  it  excavates  with  great  ease  by  means 
of  its  spade-like  processes  or  sharp-edged  spurs  growing 
from  their  heels.  In  these  holes  it  lies  in  wait  for  such 
insects  as  may  approach,  and  I  suspect  can  spring  forth 
to  seize  whatever  may  be  passing  incautiously  near  its 
hiding-place.  I  remarked,  at  least  in  those  which  I  had 
alive,  that  it  leaped  with  great,  apparent  ease  to  a  consid- 
erable distance."  So  writes  De  Kay,  in  his  "Natural 
History  of  New  York/5 

Another  batrachian  with  which  all  are  more  or  less 
familiar,  unless  their  whole  lives  have  been  spent  in  a 
large  city,  is  the  tree-toad.  Unlike  the  common  toad, 
which  is  terrestrial,  or  the  frogs,  that  are  aquatic,  this  ani- 
mal leads  an  arboreal  life.  In  anatomical  structure, 


SHOUT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  327 

therefore,  it  differs  from  both  the  others,  so  far  as  this  is 
necessary  to  its  peculiar  mode  of  life ;  the  most  promi- 
nent variation  being  found  in  the  lingers  and  toes,  which 
are  more  or  less  dilated  into  disks  at  their  tips. 

This  little  tree-toad  soon  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
early  colonists  of  New  Jersey,  and  I  find  mention  made 
of  it  as  early  as  1698.  Gabriel  Thomas,  whom  I  have 
already  quoted,  refers  to  a  "  sort  of  Frog,  that  crawls  up  to 
the  tops  of  Trees,  there  seeming  to  imitate  the  Notes  of 
several  Birds"  The  idea  of  the  resemblance  of  its  note 
to  that  of  "several  birds,"  or  of  any  one  kind  of  bird,  is 
rather  amusing.  Like  all  of  our  batrachians,  the  tree- 
toads  make  their  way  to  the  water  as  the  proper  place 
for  depositing  their  eggs.  These  eggs  are  "  attached 
singly  and  in  small  groups  along  the  grasses  resting  on 
the  water's  surface."  E<rgs  deposited  on  May  10th  are 
recorded  by  Miss  Ilinckley,  in  the  "  Proceedings  of  the 
Boston  Society  of  Natural  History,"  to  have  hatched  two 
days  later,  and  passed  through  the  tadpole  state  by  July 
4th,  when  the  tadpoles  were  found  "  at  the  water's  edge, 
with  the  tail  reduced  to  a  mere  stump." 

My  own  knowledge  of  these  little  creatures  covers 
only  their  arboreal  life.  I  have  never  seen  them  except 
in  their  high  and  dry  quarters ;  not  always  dry,  either, 
for  they  love  damp  hollows  in  the  angles  of  the  branches 
where  a  little  rain  lodges. 

The  old  apple-trees  in  the  lane  are  sure  to  be  tenanted 
by  several  tree-toads  every  year,  and  the  little  that  I  have 
learned  of  them  has  been  by  watching  those  that  fre- 
quented this  one  locality.  This,  by  the  way,  is  not  re- 
commended as  a  safe  way  of  studying  the  habits  of  ani- 
mals, as  there  would  be  nothing  improbable,  from  what 
we  know  of  other  animals,  in  tree-toads  acting  quite  dif- 
ferently in  different  trees.  Suppose  them,  for  instance, 


328  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

to  be  hiding  in  a  cedar  or  in  a  weeping-willow,  and  it  is 
evident  that  trees  so  widely  different  would  make  it  ne- 
cessary that  their  movements  when  in  pursuit  of  insects 
should  be  quite  different,  for  they  do  not  sit  quietly  in 
one  spot,  trusting  to  sufficient  prey  coming  within  their 
reach.  I  have  not  been  able  to  learn  how  far  these  ani- 
mals vary  in  the  choice  of  their  haunts,  as  I  know  them 
almost  only  as  frequenting  the  apple-trees. 

As  is  well  known,  the  tree-toad  is  nocturnal  and  cre- 
puscular in  its  habits.  By  day  it  sits  very  still  in  some 
quiet  nook.  By  sitting  still  it  must  not  be  supposed 
that  it  makes  no  noise.  Far  from  it.  Let  a  patch  of 
cloud  as  big  as  a  barn-door  cast  a  shadow  over  it,  and  the 
fretful  fellow  at  once  begins  to  croak.  This  croak  is  so 
very  generally  regarded  as  a  sign  of  rain,  that  it  almost 
invariably  calls  forth  the  remark,  "  It  is  going  to  rain," 
from  some  one  who  has  happened  to  hear  it.  Even  the 
Indians  looked  upon  it  in  this  light,  and  so  did  the  Swedes 
in  South  Jersey.  I  am  sorry,  however,  to  have  to  say 
that  the  toads  in  the  apple-trees  have  undermined  my 
faith  in  the  "sign,"  as  they  have  not  shown  themselves 
superior  in  prophetic  ability  to  the  man  who  gravely  in- 
forms us  what  the  weather  will  be  when  the  indications 
are  unmistakable.  The  croaks  and  the  coming  rain,  so 
far  as  my  apple-tree  toads  are  concerned,  are  mere  coinci- 
dences— nothing  more — as  the  following  observations 
will  show :  In  1880  the  tree-toads  croaked  every  day 
from  May  9th  to  July  12th,  both  inclusive,  and  there 
were  but  six  wet  days  during  the  sixty-five.  The  next 
summer  gave  the  same  results ;  and  during  the  early  part 
of  the  summer  of  1882,  during  which  there  was  a  consid- 
erable drought,  it  was  the  same  thing.  They  croaked 
more  or  less  every  day,  hot  or  cool,  sunshine  or  clouds, 
and  far  more  at  noon-time  than  either  in  the  early  morn- 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATEACHIANS.  329 

or  at  evening.  The  supposition  that  they  are  particu- 
larly noisy  at  night  is  wholly  inapplicable  to  my  apple- 
tree  toads.  Had  I  never  heard  anything  about  these  ani- 
mals, I  should  have  reported  them  as  croaking  not  be- 
cause it  was  likely  to  rain,  but  because  it  was  so  dry  that 
they  were  suffering  for  want  of  moisture.  After  an  un- 
usually hot  day,  during  the  early  summer,  I  have  noticed 
that  they  croak  a  great  deal  after  sunset,  when  the  air 
becomes  damper,  seemingly  out  of  pure  satisfaction  at 
the  desirable  change ;  while  during  our  annual  summer 
drought  they  croak  much  at  mid-day,  and  this,  I  have 
thought,  was  a  cry  of  impatience  uttered  in  anticipation 
of  the  refreshing  bath  of  dew  that  only  comes  with 
night-fall. 

"When  we  do  have  a  fairly  wet  season,  these  tree- toads 
are  less  full  of  croak  than  during  a  dry  one ;  and  never 
have  I  been  able  to  detect  the  slightest  connection  be- 
tween the  cries  of  the  apple-tree  toads  in  the  lane  and 
either  a  passing  shower  or  a  coming  storm. 

It  may  be  asked  of  the  tree-toad,  as  of  many  another 
of  our  fauna,  are  they  as  abundant  as  formerly  ?  In  an- 
swer to  this,  I  quote  Captain  Jonathan  Carver,  who,  in  the 
concluding  chapter  of  his  "  Travels  in  Korth  America  " 
(1766-'69),  says  :  "  These  creatures  .  .  .  infest  the  woods 
in  such  numbers  that  their  responsive  notes  at  these  times 
make  the  air  resound."  The  rest  of  the  notice  is  a  mixt- 
ure of  truth  and  absurdity,  and  is  omitted ;  but  the  por- 
tion quoted  would  indicate  that  either  tree-toads  were  for- 
merly more  abundant  than  at  present,  or  that  the  author 
has  confounded  the  animal  with  some  one  of  the  true 
frogs. 

The  tree-toads,  while  always  at  home  during  the  day, 
are  as  active  as  a  hop-toad  during  the  night,  and  wander 
about  the  home-tree  in  search  of  food.  Unless  disturbed, 


330  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

however,  they  do  not,  I  think,  go  far  away,  certainly  not 
so  far  that  they  can  not  find  their  way  back.  I  have 
long  thought  that  they  made  one  tree  their  home,  and  I 
know,  from  observations  extending  over  several  sum- 
mers, that  the  same  tree-toad  will  spend  the  day,  the 
summer  through,  in  the  one  spot  on  the  tree.  From 
April  to  October,  without  a  miss,  except  when  making 
the  journey  to  the  nearest  water  to  lay  eggs,  I  have 
known  a  tree-toad,  day  after  day,  to  stick  to  one  and  the 
same  spot,  wherever  it  might  travel  through  the  night. 
Of  course,  such  regularity  of  habit  must  be  coincident  with 
an  abundant  food-supply.  Let  this  once  become  uncer- 
tain, and,  like  sensible  toads,  they  would  quickly  change 
their  quarters ;  but  any  change  of  locality  is  probably 
from  necessity,  not  choice. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  find  out  whether  this  batra- 
chian  had  any  enemies.  The  snakes  that  climb  trees,  as 
the  black-snakes,  do  doubtless  sometimes  make  a  dinner 
upon  them ;  but  our  climbing  snakes  are  few,  and  hence 
the  inference,  that  they  have  less  to  fear  than  either  the 
frogs  or  toads,  though  they  are  by  no  means  so  numerous. 

There  is  yet  another  species  of  tree-toad,  called  Pick- 
ering's hyla,  which  is  found  about  here,  though  it  is  not 
so  common.  Its  place  is  taken  by  the  little  green  and 
brown  batrachian  called  the  cricket-frog,  or  u  peeper." 
This  species  is  not  a  true  tree-toad,  or  hyla,  as  there  is  a 
little  twist  in  its  muscles  and  a  wrinkle  in  the  bones 
which  the  other  does  not  possess ;  so,  instead  of  rejoicing 
in  the  pretty  scientific  name  Hyla,  we  must  call  it  Ily- 
lodes,  if  we  speak  scientifically ;  but  to  me  the  little  fel- 
low is  always  a  "  peeper." 

One  of  the  cheeriest  of  the  many  early  spring  notes 
is  the  clear,  bell-like  voice  of  this  little  animal.  "We  hear 
it  wherever  we  go,  though  we  do  not  so  often  have  the 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  331 

opportunity  of  seeing  him  in  the  act  of  "peep  "-ing. 
One  Saturday  evening,  late  in  April,  1882,  as  I  was  walk- 
ing along  the  bank  of  a  narrow  ditch  in  the  neighbor- 
ing meadow,  I  was  startled  by  the  shrill  "  kweep  "  of  a 
"  peepsr."  I  say  startled,  for  the  sound  seemed  to  come 
from  directly  under  my  feet,  as  though  I  had  trodden 
upon  the  little  fellow  and  crushed  this  one  agonized  cry 
from  him.  Instantly  I  stopped,  and  waited  patiently  for 
several  moments.  All  was  silent,  until  I  imitated  the 
cry  as  best  I  could,  when  immediately  the  little  frog  an- 
swered me.  I  knew  then  that  he  was  not  even  hurt, 
and  straightway  I  began  to  search  for  him,  as  I  was  very 
anxious  to  see  one  uttering  the  shrill  note  peculiar  to 
its  species.  I  first  stooped ;  but  failing  in  this  to  get  a 
glimpse  of  him,  I  then  lay  flat  upon  the  damp  meadow. 
At  every  change  of  position  the  little  fellow  ceased  his 
shrill  cry ;  but  a  moment's  quiet  on  my  part  restored  his 
confidence,  and  the  piercing  "  kweep  "  again  sounded  so 
shrilly  that  I  was  confident  the  animal  must  be  within  a 
foot  of  my  face.  Still  I  failed  to  find  him.  Not  dis- 
couraged, but  fearful  of  rheumatism,  I  was  about  to  retire, 
when  I  was  joined  by  my  son,  who  took  a  position  near 
by  and  scanned  the  grass  along  the  ditch-bank,  as  only 
his  younger  eyes  could ;  and  he  soon  discovered  the  lit- 
tle hylodes  upon  the  opposite  bank  of  the  ditch,  much 
farther  away  than  I  had  supposed.  We  had  a  full  view 
of  him,  as  he  was  clinging  to  two  blades  of  grass  in  a 
perpendicular  position,  head  up  and  hips  down.  The 
note  or  "kweep"  was  preceded  by  the  formation  of  an 
immense  air-sack  in  the  throat.  This  was  as  large,  I 
thought,  as  the  animal  itself.  As  suddenly  as  it  came, 
the  sack  disappeared ;  and  simultaneously  with  the  col- 
lapse came  the  shrill  note  I  have  described.  The  whole 
act  was  so  rapid  that  I  could  scarcely  follow  it,  though  I 


332  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

saw  enough  at  the  time  to  satisfy  me  that  the  sound  was 
produced  by  the  escape  of  the  air  that  filled  the  enor- 
mous sack  at  its  throat. 

During  the  month  of  April,  1881,  I  had  an  excellent 
opportunity  for  observing  these  creatures ;  and,  finding 
that  but  little  had  been  recorded  concerning  them,  I 
availed  myself  of  the  chance  with  all  the  more  earnest- 
ness, and  watched  them  closely  for  several  weeks. 

While  a  network  of  ditches  in  a  low  meadow  were 
being  repaired,  extended,  and  cleaned,  I  followed  the 
workmen  closely,  for  the  purpose  of  gathering  any  novel- 
ties that  might  be  thrown  out  with  the  mud  and  dead 
leaves  that  had  accumulated  in  them.  Much  of  interest 
was  found ;  but  the  one  striking  feature  of  the  locality 
at  this  time  was  ths  wonderful  abundance  of  little 
"  peepers,"  or,  in  dignified  language,  hylodes.  They  were 
in  full  song,  and  when  not  disturbed,  made  more  noise 
than  all  the  frogs  in  the  neighborhood.  They  were 
quite  timid,  however,  and,  on  being  approached,  were 
straightway  "  mum."  Their  vocal  efforts  seemed  to  in- 
crease until  the  first  week  in  May,  when  their  eggs  were 
deposited  in  little  masses  which  were  attached  to  the 
blades  of  rank  grass  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  water. 
I  did  not  succeed  in  following  the  various  stages  of  de- 
velopmental growth  from  the  egg  to  the  matured  animal, 
but  I  was  enabled  to  determine  that  it  was  more  pro- 
tracted than  in  the  common  tree-toacl.  The  difference 
is,  I  am  led  to  think,  about  six  or  seven  weeks.  The  tardi- 
ness of  growth  is  occasioned  by  the  slow  development  of 
the  limbs,  which  do  not,  I  think,  begin  to  grow  until  late 
in  the  summer. 

From  the  date  of  their  earliest  appearance  in  spring 
in  considerable  numbers  until  about  the  last  week  in 
May  the  meadows  are  literally  alive  with  them.  Wher- 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATEACHIANS.  333 

ever  the  ground  is  at  all  wet,  they  are  to  be  seen  as  thick 
as  grasshoppers  in  August.  Extremely  active  and  quite 
shy,  they  are  difficult  to  catch,  in  case  the  pursuit  is  con- 
fined to  a  single  individual,  but,  by  sweeping  an  ordinary 
dip-net  along  the  grass  at  the  edge  of  any  little  pool, 
several  are  certain  to  be  taken.  They  feed  ravenously 
at  this  time,  and,  even  when  confined  in  very  cramped 
quarters,  they  will  devour  any  flies  that  may  come  with- 
in reach.  On  the  other  hand,  they  appear  at  this  time 
to  constitute  the  main  food-supply  of  certain  fishes,  all 
the  snakes,  some  turtles,  and  a  few  birds.  I  found  that 
all  our  snakes  during  April  and  May  were  more  abun- 
dant in  the  meadows  than  elsewhere,  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  they  were  drawn  thither  for  the  purpose 
of  feeding  on  these  little  batrachians.  Even  that  lover 
of  high,  dry,  and  dusty  fields,  the  hog-nosed  snake,  was 
found  at  intervals  along  the  banks  of  the  ditches,  appar- 
ently on  the  lookout  for  "  peepers,"  and  the  dissection 
subsequently  of  one  of  these  snakes  proved  that  it  had 
fed  upon  them. 

About  the  middle  of  May  there  was  a  very  notice- 
able diminution  in  their  numbers,  and  by  the  close  of  the 
first  week  in  June  not  a  specimen  was  to  be  found. 
High  and  low,  up  hill  and  down  dale,  it  mattered  not 
where  I  looked,  not  a  trace  of  an  adult  hylodes  could  I 
discover.  Can  it  be  that  their  vigor  culminates  with  the 
maturity  of  the  ova  and  spermatozoa,  and  that,  having 
spawned,  they  have  no  vital 'force  remaining,  and  so,  in 
the  course  of  a  few  weeks  after  ovipositing,  they  die  ?  If 
this  be  so,  then  weeks  must  elapse  without  a  representa- 
tive of  this  batrachian  being  in  existence,  and  the  race  is 
preserved  in  the  tadpoles  that  swarrn  in  the  stagnant 
ponds  and  sluggish  ditches.  This  continues  until  August, 
when  these  tadpoles  become  fully  developed  "  peepers." 


334  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

In  September  their  numbers  greatly  increase,  and  now 
they  spread  over  a  wider  range  than  they  seemed  to  fre- 
quent in  April  and  May.  Indeed,  in  the  autumns  of  1881 
and  1882  I  found  very  few  in  the  meadows,  but  thousands 
were  in  damp,  upland  nooks,  as,  for  instance,  about  the 
springs  and  particularly  along  a  brook  where  the  water 
flowed  rapidly  over  a  pebbly  bed. 

Early  in  October,  1881,  I  found  a  number  of  these 
"  peepers "  in  a  little  ravine,  through  which  a  brook 
ripples  riverward.  I  noticed  at  the  time  that  these  little 
creatures  had  a  decided  aversion  to  the  water.  Neces- 
sary as  it  was  for  them  to  keep  their  skins  moist,  they 
had  no  desire  to  become  thoroughly  wet,  and  when  by 
chance  they  made  an  unlucky  jump  and  settled  in  the 
water,  they  straightway  crawled  out  and  took  up  a  high 
and  dry  position  on  some  projecting  stone.  If  in  the 
sunlight,  so  much  the  better.  A  bath  seemed  to  chill 
them,  and  whenever  I  drove  one  into  the  water,  I 
found  that  for  several  minutes  after  it  emerged  I  could 
pick  it  up  without  difficulty ;  but  in  time  it  would  regain 
its  ordinary  activity,  and  then  quick  indeed  must  be  the 
movements  of  any  one  who  would  catch  such  an  one  with 
the  hand  alone. 

It  was  at  this  time,  too,  that  I  gave  close  attention  to 
the  subject  of  their  color  and  its  changeableness. 

While  there  are  certain  peculiarities  of  color  that  are 
persistent  and  characteristic  of  the  species,  these,  at  times, 
become  of  little  prominence,  so  very  great  is  the  differ- 
ence in  the  entire  coloration  of  the  animal.  Furthermore, 
they  change  their  hues  with  great  rapidity,  and  during 
the  course  of  a  few  moments  will  pass  from  an  ashy 
paleness  or  clay  color  to  an  intense  black,  with  the  light 
dorsal  stripe  scarcely  visible,  or  else  either  of  a  glowing 
red  or  a  brilliant  metallic  green.  So  very  beautiful  are 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  335 

these  colors,  and  so  different  in  appearance  will  any  half- 
dozen  of  these  animals  prove  to  be,  that  it  is  difficult  to 
realize  that  they  all  belong  to  one  and  the  same  species. 

Of  a  series  of  six  which  I  have  long  kept  in  confine- 
ment (October  20th  to  January  2i)th)  in  a  bottle,  one 
specimen  was  taken  from  a  ledge  of  pale  yellow  clay. 
The  "peeper"  was  of  the  same  color,  the  post-orbital 
dark  spot  and  light  dorsal  line  being  scarcely  discernible. 
The  uniform  yellow  tint,  however,  was  relieved  by  minute 
round  points  of  brilliant  bronze.  This  individual,  unlike 
its  companions,  did  not  alter  in  color  for  several  weeks. 
The  others  were  very  changeable,  and  particularly  so  when 
exposed  to  direct  sunlight.  While  I  noted  several  in- 
stances to  the  contrary,  my  impression  is  that  usually  the 
colors  pale  in  direct  sunlight,  and  deepen  when  the  ani- 
mals are  in  deep  shade.  This  certainly  is  true  of  those  I 
have  in  confinement,  and  agrees  with  my  experience  in 
searching  for  them  during  the  past  autumn.  One  fact 
with  reference  to  the  subject  of  their  color  is  not  in  ac- 
cordance, psrhaps,  with  the  above,  but  should  not  go  un- 
recorded. The  six  individuals  which  I  have  in  a  bottle 
will,  at  times,  present  very  different  tints,  although  all 
are  subjected  to  like  surroundings.  Of  the  six,  two  or 
three  would  be  very  dark,  the  others  pale  yellow.  "With 
some  the  dark  triangular  spot  between  the  eyes  would  be 
very  distinct,  in  the  case  of  the  others  it  could  not  be 
detected,  even  in  outline.  It  must  be  remembered,  how- 
ever, that  these  individuals  were  kept  in  most  unnatural 
conditions,  and  though,  at  the  time  of  this  writing,  they 
had  been  without  food  for  one  hundred  days,  yet  they 
were  as  active  as  squirrels. 

Sensitive  as  these  "  peepers  "  are  to  changes  of  tem- 
perature, it  is  by  no  means  the  first  frost  that  drives  them 
into  their  winter  quarters.  In  the  autumn  of  the  past 


336  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

year  (1881)  I  found  them  as  late  as  Nov.  12th,  and  even 
later  (Dec.  27th)  my  son  found  one  in  the  meadows  which 
was  as  lively  as  a  cricket.  The  frogs  generally  were 
singing  this  day.  For  more  than  two  weeks  prior  to 
Nov.  12th  there  had  been  several  white  frosts,  and  the 
true  frogs  (Ranee)  had  all  disappeared  except  the  few  that 
lingered  in  the  warm  waters  of  the  larger  springs.  Not 
so,  however,  with  the  "  peepers  ; "  the  cozy,  sheltered 
nooks  in  the  ravine  I  have  mentioned  afforded  them  com- 
fortable quarters  still,  and  after  a  severe  rain-storm,  which 
lasted  for  three  days,  I  found  numerous  specimens  near 
the  brook,  always  in  moist  places,  but  not  where  it  would 
be  called  wet.  In  many  instances  they  were  found  ad- 
hering to  the  under  sides  of  projecting  stones,  roots  of 
trees,  and  even  to  large  oak -leaves.  I  find  it  stated  by 
De  Kay,  in  his  "  Natural  History  of  New  York,"  that  they 
can  not  retain  their  hold  upon  the  under  sides  of  project- 
ing objects  ;  that  the  disks  on  their  toes  are  not  sufficiently 
large.  This  is  an  error ;  indeed,  the  specimens  I  have  in 
a  bottle  can  retain  their  hold  when  the  bottle  is  turned 
over. 

My  impression  is,  that  they  do  not  require  or  partake 
of  any  food  during  their  brief  experience  as  matured 
"  peepers  "  in  autumn,  i.  e.,  from  completion  of  the  growth 
of  their  limbs  in  September  to  the  commencement  of 
their  hibernation.  My  reason  for  this  is  based  upon  the 
fact  that  the  specimens  in  a  bottle,  to  which  I  have 
referred,  were  placed  in  confinement  on  the  20th  of  Oc- 
tober, 1881,  and  the  date  of  writing,  January  29,  1882, 
a  period  of  one  hundred  days  has  just  elapsed.  During 
this  time  these  "peepers"  have  had  no  food,  have  been 
quite  as  active  as  their  limited  quarters  would  permit, 
and  yet  have  not  lost  weight  to  any  important  extent. 
One  which  I  weighed  on  the  day  following  its  capture 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRAGHIANS.  337 

weighed  forty-four  grains,  and  seventy-five  days  later  had 
lost  but  one  grain. 

In  the  spring  it  is  very  different ;  then  they  are  vora- 
cious feeders,  and  capture  millions  of  insects.  At  this 
time  their  stomachs  are  always  full,  and,  while  the  size  of 
the  animal  is  not  noticeably  larger  than  it  was  in  autumn, 
yet  the  weight  is  nearly  twice  as  great.  Their  physiologi- 
cal activity  apparently  culminates  with  the  maturing  of 
the  ova  and  the  labor  of  depositing  and  fertilizing  it,  as 
I  have  already  suggested.  This  effected,  these  little 
"  peepers "  are  worn  out,  and,  as  I  am  forced  to  believe, 
the  greater  number,  at  least,  soon  die. 

Going  back  to  the  high  and  dry  land,  there  may  be 
found  a  common  batrachian — the  familiar  hop-toad — 
about  which  many  errors  are  rife,  and  which  is  therefore 
entitled  to  an  extended  notice. 

It  is  probable  that  the  absence  of  all  attractiveness 
has  had  much  to  do  with  the  indifference  with  which 
toads  are  regarded,  and,  in  justice,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  the  toad  is  superlatively  ugly.  This,  however,  should 
interest  rather  than  repel  the  student,  since  this  black  and 
brown  ugliness  is  an  excellent  instance  of  protective  col- 
oration. So  inconspicuous  is  this  toad,  when  in  its  ordi- 
nary haunts,  that  it  has  but  to  sit  still  and  let  its  food 
come  unsuspectingly  within  reach.  Then  it  is  seized,  but 
so  quickly  that  it  takes  a  sharp  eye  to  follow  the  move- 
ment. Whoever  hates  flies  should  love  the  toad.  It 
would  be  hard  to  determine  just  how  many  it  will  devour 
in  the  course  of  twenty-four  hours,  but  a  fair  estimate  can 
be  made.  For  instance,  two  summers  ago,  a  lazy,  aged 
toad  took  up  its  quarters  by  the  kitchen-door.  A  conve- 
nient cranny  in  the  brick  pavement  was  its  home ;  but  it 
sallied  out  often,  even  in  broad  daylight,  to  feast  upon  the 

15 


338  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

innumerable  flies.  Once,  watch  in  hand,  I  timed  it,  with 
the  following  result :  In  three  minutes  it  captured  twen- 
ty-nine flies,  supposing  that  it  never  missed  its  aim.  The 
toad  looked  like  a  child's  rocking-horse  while  thus  en- 
gaged, and  no  wonder,  for  once  in  every  six  seconds  it 
leaned  forward,  shot  out  its  tongue,  and  then  came  back 
with  a  flop  to  its  original  position.  Then  out  again  and 
back,  and  so  it  kept  up  for  the  three  minutes.  Then  a 
pause  of  three  or  four,  during  which  a  new  lot  of  flies 
accumulated,  and  the  three-minute  job  was  repeated. 
This  toad  has  been  a  fixture  in  the  kitchen-pavement  for 
nine  years,  and,  I  am  happy  to  add,  still  lives.  Think 
kindly  of  toads,  then,  all  ye  who  have  a  horror  of  flies. 

Although  a  nocturnal  animal,  the  toad  is  by  no  means 
disposed  to  remain  idle  through  the  day.  It  is,  however, 
only  after  sundown  that  protracted  foraging  expeditions 
are  undertaken,  and  it  is  only  at  that  time  that  it  sings ! 
Why  not  call  it  singing  ?  Frogs  "  sing,"  in  common  parl- 
ance, although  some  ill-natured  folk  call  it  grunting,  and 
the  toads  certainly  have  an  equal  right  to  have  their  vocal 
efforts  similarly  named.  It  is  a  deep,  penetrating,  me- 
tallic rattle  that  may  be  heard  a  long  way  off,  and,  when 
one  after  another  repeats  the  note,  it  becomes  a  feature  of 
the  serenade  with  which  our  country  folk  are  nightly 
favored  during  the  summer  months.  The  frogs  get  the 
credit  of  the  performance  with  many,  but  this  "  mixing" 
of  different  things  is  not  unusual  in  matters  zoological. 

One  word  more.  Toads  do  go  to  the  water  to  lay 
their  eggs,  and  these  eggs  do  not  hatch  into  hoppers,  but 
into  little  tadpoles,  which  have  to  wait  with  patience  for 
their  legs  to  grow.  Then  these  ridiculous  miniatures  of 
their  sedate  parents  come  hopping  from  the  ditches  in 
regiments  and  brigades,  and  were  it  not  that  very  many 
of  the  birds,  mammals,  and  reptiles  in  the  neighborhood 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRAGHIANS.  339 

fatten  on  them,  we  should  soon  have  a  plague  of  toads. 
As  it  is,  we  have  not  half  enough. 

Every  one  of  the  preceding  batrachians,  ten  in  num- 
ber, have  been  placed  in  an  "  order  "  called  ANURA — that 
is,  they  are  tailless.  Perhaps  this  may  seem  contradic- 
tory, for  every  one  had  a  tail  when  it  was  hatched,  and 
with  some  this  appendage  was  larger  than  the  whole  body. 
In  time,  however,  these  tails  dwindle  away,  and  wonder- 
fully well-developed  legs  appear,  and  no  one,  seeing  a 
frog  or  toad  for  the  first  time,  would  ever  suspect  that 
once  upon  a  time  he  sported  a  tail. 

Before  completing  our  cursory  glance  at  the  batrachi- 
ans we  must  again  return  to  the  haunts  of  the  frogs  and 
turtles,  for  there  are  in  these  damp  nooks  and  crannies 
a  whole  host  of  creeping,  slimy,  and  often  gayly-painted 
creatures,  which  the  ignorant  will  persist  in  calling  water- 
lizards  ;  and  generally  a  libel,  to  the  effect  that  they  are 
poisonous,  is  added.  These  animals  are  collectively  known 
as  salamanders,  and  may  briefly  be  defined  as  lizard- 
shaped,  but  with  the  body  naked  or  without  scales.  Un- 
like the  frogs,  they  have  tails — not  little  stumps,  but 
long,  slender,  whip-lash  appendages — that  wiggle  as  the 
creature  runs,  and  are  of  no  earthly  use  whatever,  and 
probably  never  were.  Indeed,  snakes  and  turtles  nip 
them  off  very  frequently,  and  the  salamander  seems  to 
thrive  all  the  better  for  it.  Indeed,  so  much  are  they 
benefited  by  the  operation,  that  a  race  of  tailless  sala- 
manders ought  long  since  to  have  been  Darwinized  into 
existence.  However,  it  has  not  been  done,  and,  though 
the  tails  are  of  no  known  use,  yet  the  salamanders  will 
persist  in  cultivating  the  useless  appendage. 

There  is  a  strong  family  likeness  running  through  the 
list  of  these  animals,  which  may  number  ten  species  in 


340         RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

this  neighborhood,  although  I  am  not  certain  of  the  iden- 
tity of  more  than  four.  Externally  they  vary  in  color 
and  in  the  length  of  the  tail,  and,  if  we  could  only  classify 
them  accordingly,  the  difficulty  would  end  ;  but  my  friend, 
Professor  Cope,  has  assured  us  that  some  are  opisthocoe- 
lian,  and  others  amphicrelian.  Think  of  that,  and  fail  to 
pity  the  poor  salamanders,  if  you  can.  Then  some  have 
ossified  tarsi  and  carpi,  while  in  others  these  are  cartilagi- 
nous. It  is  bewildering  to  contemplate,  but  in  spite  of  it 
all  the  salamanders  keep  up  their  courage,  and  wriggle 
and  twist,  swim  and  dive,  catch  flies  and  sing  songs,  just  as 
though  these  terrible  things  had  never  been  said  about 
them. 

In  my  rambles  about  home  I  have  found  four  well- 
marked  species  of  these  salamanders  in  abundance.  One 
is  quite  terrestrial,  being  content  with  moderately  damp 
ground.  Two  others  may  be  considered  as  "  on  the 
fence,"  it  being  uncertain  whether  wet  land  or  running 
water  suits  them  better,  while  the  fourth  is  strictly 
aquatic. 

The  first  of  these,  and  that  which  is  strictly  an  aquatic 
salamander,  is  the  pretty  spotted  triton.  This  little  creat- 
ure is  as  much  at  home  in  the  ponds  and  deeper  ditches 
as  any  fish,  and  is  far  handsomer.  It  is  green  above  and 
yellow  beneath,  and  its  sides  are  decorated  with  vermilion 
spots,  each  one  of  which  is  margined  by  a  black  ring. 
Not  even  the  sunfish  can  boast  a  greater  wealth  of  color. 

In  its  habits  it  is  both  frog-  and  fish-like.  Early  in 
the  spring  it  comes  from  its  winter-quarters,  which  I  could 
never  discover,  and  swimming  in  and  out  among  the 
bunches  of  floating  dead  grass,  or  haunting  such  hardier 
growths  as  have  not  been  winter-killed,  it  occasionally 
lifts  the  tip  of  its  nose  just  above  the  surface  of  the 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  341 

water,  and  gives  a  clear,  metallic  "peep."  This  is  not  so 
loud  as  that  of  an  hylodes,  or  "  peeper,"  though  resem- 
bling it  in  other  respects,  nor  is  it  so  frequently  repeated. 
Indeed,  I  have  always  considered  it  quite  an  event  to  de- 
tect a  triton  in  the  act  of  "  peeping,"  and  I  should  not 
have  suspected  their  vocal  powers  if  I  had  not  heard  one 
"  give  voice  "  in  the  aquarium,  where  it  had  been  confined 
for  many  months. 

Like  all  our  frogs,  these  salamanders  lay  "bunches" 
of  eggs,  which  are  attached  to  floating  blades  of  grass. 
These  are  soon  hatched,  and  then  the  young  shift  for 
themselves.  Like  all  such  young  fry,  however,  they  run 
but  little  chance  of  ever  reaching  maturity,  for  the  mud- 
minnows,  young  turtles,  and,  in  fact,  every  creature  larger 
than  themselves,  inhabiting  the  same  pond,  gobble  them 
up  most  unceremoniously. 

I  am  compelled  to  write  thus  briefly  about  them,  for, 
while  I  have  seen  both  the  eggs  and  very  young  tritons, 
I  have  never  watched  the  process  by  which  the  former 
develops  into  the  latter.  This  is  yearly  postponed,  on 
account  of  a  press  of  other  novelties,  and  now  I  can 
only  hope  to  induce  some  one  else  to  undertake  the 
task. 

De  Kay  tells  us  that  this  salamander  is  capable  of 
withstanding  a  low  temperature,  and  thereby  gives  ground 
for  the  inference  that  other  salamanders  can  not.  This, 
I  think,  is  not  true,  as  they  all  can  bear  a  considerable 
degree  of  cold,  and  even  when  frozen  they  have  been 
known  to  recover  promptly  if  thawed  out  very  gradually. 
While  hibernation  is,  I  doubt  not,  a  habit  common  to 
them  all,  it  is  certain  that  during  what  are  called  "open 
winters  "  they  retain  their  wonted  activity  from  Novem- 
ber to  March,  and  this,  too,  without  food  of  any  kind. 
Whether  they  live  on  their  fat,  or  whether  there  is  some 


34:2  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

arrest  of  the  natural  decay  of  tissue,  I  can  not  say ;  but  I 
have  often,  during  winter,  found  our  semi-aquatic  sala- 
manders in  warm  spots,  possessed  of  their  usual  activity, 
and  yet  in  localities  which  I  supposed  to  be  destitute  at 
the  time  of  any  food-supply.  My  efforts  to  determine, 
by  dissection,  the  contents  of  their  stomachs  during  win- 
ter were  not  satisfactory,  and  I  had  to  content  myself 
with  the  fact  that  if  there  were  any  food  in  their  stomachs 
it  was  in  very  minute  quantities. 

A  second  species  of  these  creatures,  remarkable  for  its 
activity  and  strength,  is  the  dusky  salamander.  To  find 
it  we  must  leave  the  muddy  ditches  and  grass  grown 
ponds  wherein  the  triton  delights,  and  seek  some  babbling 
brook  with  plenty  of  big  stones  in  its  bed.  Under  these 
we  are  pretty  sure  to  find  this  dusky  species.  When  dis- 
turbed, away  it  goes  with  a  jump  and  a  wriggle,  but  not 
for  any  distance.  The  nearest  hiding-place  is  sure  to  be 
its  goal ;  and  so,  with  a  little  care,  they  are  easily  followed, 
and  the  slimy  creatures  may  be  captured  with  comparative 
ease.  Small  though  they  be,  their  strength  is  considerable, 
and, before  we  realize  the  fact,  a  captured  u  dusky"  will 
pry  open  your  closed  fingers  and  be  off.  Often  I  have 
lost  an  old  fellow  in  just  this  way,  being  unable  to  realize 
in  time  what  the  creature  was  about. 

Common  as  they  are,  I  have  never  found  their  eggs, 
to  my  knowledge,  but  suppose  that  they  are  placed  in 
localities  like  dripping  moss  or  soaked  leaves,  that  are 
constantly  wet,  and  not  in  the  running  water.  The  young 
retain  their  external  gills  longer  than  do  any  of  the  other 
species  found  here.  I  had  supposed  that  it  was  only  for 
a  year,  but,  according  to  Professor  Verrill,  two  years  must 
elapse  before  they  acquire  the  breathing-apparatus  of 
adult  life. 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  343 

More  strictly  terrestrial  than  the  preceding  is  a  third 
common  salamander,  which  I  find  exceedingly  abundant 
at  times,  and  then  a  season  passes  when  it  is  quite  scarce. 
This  is  the  red-backed  salamander.  The  surest  place  to 
gather  these  is  under  the  platform  of  the  pump.  !No 
doubt  now  and  then  they  plunge  headlong  down  into 
the  well ;  but,  as  they  are  not  brought  up  mangled  by  the 
valve  or  the  bucket,  why  should  we  care  ?  I  know  they 
are  about  the  pump,  and  suppose  they  are  in  the  water  we 
drink ;  but  this  is  not  a  disturbing  fact.  I  remember  that 
the  best  springs  always  harbor  frogs  ;  so  why  not  this  non- 
jumping,  tailed  frog,  for  such  it  is.  Under  a  board,  if  it 
be  lying  on  moist  earth,  the  "  red-backs  "  love  to  linger. 
What  they  find  to  eat  under  there  has  often  puzzled  me, 
as  I  never  could  see  any  other  living  creature  of  which 
the  salamanders  could  make  a  meal.  There  did  not  ap- 
pear to  be  any  trace  of  minute  insects,  and  yet  these 
salamanders  thrive  the  while.  To  solve  this  question, I  tried 
an  experiment,  but  with  only  negative  results.  Finding 
a  small  colony  of  the  salamanders  under  a  plank  near  the 
pump,  I  waited  until  dark,  and  then,  by  the  aid  of  a 
bull's-eye  lantern,  found  that  when  all  was  quiet  they 
came  out  from  their  diurnal  quarters  and  foraged  in  a 
very  systematic  manner.  They  scampered  about  as  rest- 
lessly as  scuttle-bugs,  and  I  suppose  were  hunting  for  in- 
sects. When  I  caused  the  light  from  the  lantern  to  fall 
directly  upon  them,  they  at  once  started  for  the  plank 
from  under  which  they  had  come.  I  did  not,  of  course, 
see  one  of  them  catch  an  insect,  but  it  was  evident  that 
they  are  nocturnal,  and,  being  so,  they  must  habitually 
feed  at  night,  although  they  do  not  scorn  a  bit  of  lunch- 
eon, even  if  it  happens  to  be  offered  during  the  day. 

With  us  the  red-backed  salamander  lays  its  eggs  first 
in  June  and  then  again  in  August.  They  are  placed 


344  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

under  wet  moss  and  leaves,  and  likewise  under  the  plat- 
form of  the  pump.  In  a  very  few  days  the  eggs  are 
hatched,  and,  unlike  the  young  "  duskies,"  the  external 
gills  commence  to  dwindle  as  soon  as  they  are  fairly  in 
working  order,  and  in  three  or  four  days  not  a  vestige  of 
them  is  seen. 

The  fourth  common  species,  met  with  almost  daily 
throughout  the  summer,  is  the  beautiful  pink,  rosy,  or 
red  salamander.  These  are  of  all  shades  of  red,  and  even 
when  very  old  are  purple.  I  have  sometimes  thought 
they  had  better  be  called  the  "  inquisitive  triton."  When- 
ever the  hydraulic  ram,  that  formerly  was  our  sole  de- 
pendence for  water,  ceased  to  furnish  us  with  the  desired 
supply,  I  found  a  red  salamander  under  the  plunger. 
During  the  earlier  years  of  my  acquaintance  with  the 
pretty  triton  I  never  ceased  to  admire  it ;  but  of  late  my 
tastes  have  changed.  Even  in  midwinter,  and  after  sun- 
down, by  the  light  of  a  smoky  lantern  I  have  too  often 
had  to  visit  the  troubled  water-ram,  and  found  my  former 
friend,  the  red  salamander,  under  the  plunger.  One  win- 
ter, and  that  a  hard  one,  satisfied  me  that  these  tritons 
are  essentially  inquisitive.  There  were  individuals  of 
other  species  roaming  around  at  the  time,  and  scores  of 
more  sensible  ones,  that  took  a  long  winter's  nap,  but 
never  one  of  them  disturbed  the  ram  except  these  over- 
grown red  fellows. 

I  think  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  all  of  our  sala- 
manders have  voices.  I  have  already  mentioned  the 
"  peep  "  of  the  newt,  or  spotted  triton.  This  large  red 
salamander  also  has  a  clear,  bell-like  note,  which,  though 
frequently  heard,  is  not  usually  recognized.  It  is  a  true 
hylodes  note,  and  is  often  attributed  to  the  little  Savan- 
nah cricket,  or  "peeper,"  already  described.  They  call, 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATEACHIANS.  345 

whistle,  or  give  tongue,  as  you  choose  to  express  it,  only 
in  spring,  and  at  the  time  when  the  females  are  deposit- 
ing their  ova.  This,  at  least,  is  my  impression. 

There  are  yet  others  of  this  family  that  have  been 
"  collected "  in  the  neighborhood ;  but  here  my  knowl- 
edge ends.  They  were  here,  and  now  are — in  alcohol. 
This  seemed  to  satisfy  those  who  were  fortunate  enough 
to  find  them  ;  but  of  the  value  of  such  facts  I  have  noth- 
ing to  say. 

The  Intelligence  of  BatracJiians. 

In  his  recent  volume  on  animal  intelligence,*  Mr. 
Romanes  devotes  less  than  two  pages  to  the  intelligence 
of  batrachians.  He  remarks:  "On  the  intelligence  of 
frogs  and  toads  very  little  has  to  be  said."  That  our 
author  should  have  included  toads  in  the  above  seems 
strange,  as  instances  of  cunning  and  proofs  of  the  general 
intelligence  of  these  animals  are  numerous.  In  conver- 
sation with  practical  observers  of  animal  life,  I  have 
never  yet  found  one  that  did  not  accord  a  marked  degree 
of  intelligence  to  toads.  In  short,  they  may  readily  be 
tamed,  will  come  when  called,  and  have  been  seen  to 
place  matter  attractive  to  flies,  their  principal  food,  near 
their  hiding-places,  so  they  could  remain  at  home  and 
at  the  same  time  be  sure  of  a  sufficiency  of  food.  This 
evidence  of  foresight  on  the  part  of  toads  is  no  uncom- 
mon occurrence,  and  quite  effectually  establishes  their 
claim  to  a  creditable  degree  of  intelligence. 

Of  the  spade-foot  or  hermit-toad  (Scaphlopus  solita- 
rius)  and  the  tree-toad  (ITyla  versicolor)  I  have  but  little 
to  record.  The  former  is  but  rarely  seen,  and  I  have  had 
no  opportunity  to  experiment  with  it  with  a  view  to  test- 

*  "Animal  Intelligence."  By  George  J.  Ro:nanes.  (Internat.  Sc.  Series, 
No.  xliv.)  New  York,  D.  Appleton  &  Co. 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

ing  its  mental  capabilities.  The  habits  of  the  animal,  as 
described  by  Agassiz  and  Putnam,  would  lead  one  to  con- 
clude that  intellectually  they  are  to  be  classed  with  the 
common  toad.  The  tree-toad,  or  Hyla,  being  crepuscu- 
lar in  habits,  was  found  difficult  to  study,  and  nothing 
was  determined  that  bore  upon  the  question  of  its  intel- 
lectual capacity.  I  can  but  state  my  impression,  which 
is,  that  they  are  not  so  cunning  as  the  common  toad. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  am  pained  to  confess  that  my 
many  observations  and  experiments  with  the  several  spe- 
cies of  true  frosjs  found  here,  conducted  without  an  inter- 

O  ' 

mission  for  four  months,  have  yielded  but  little  evidence 
that  these  creatures  possess  a  particle  of  intelligence.     It 
almost  proved,  indeed,  to  be  labor  lost — 
To  perch  upon  a  slippery  log, 
And  sit  in  judgment  on  a  frog. 

Mr.  Romanes  remarks  that,  if  frogs  are  removed  to  a 
long  distance  from  water,  they  will  take  the  shortest  route 
to  the  nearest  pool  or  brook.  Even  this,  I  find,  is  only 
usually  true.  Quite  ten  per  cent  of  such  " removed" 
frogs  started  off,  when  released,  in  the  direction  of  the 
most  distant  water,  rather  than  that  which  was  nearest. 
One  of  my  many  experiments  was  as  follows :  I  placed  a 
pail  filled  with  water  in  a  dry,  dusty  field,  burying  it  to 
the  brim.  It  was  protected  by  a  cap  of  coarse  wire  siev- 
ing. I  then  liberated  a  frog  within  twenty  yards  of  it. 
It  hopped  in  the  opposite  direction  toward  water  nearly 
three  hundred  yards  distant.  I  then  placed  a  frog  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  buried  pail,  so  that  the  distant 
brook  could  only  be  approached  by  passing  near  or  directly 
over  it,  if  the  frog  took  a  direct  course.  This  the  frog 
did,  and  less  than  a  score  of  leaps  brought  it  to  the  water 
covered  by  the  sieve.  It  seemed  quite  satisfied  with  the 
fact  that  a  little  water  was  in  sight,  although  out  of  reach. 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATEACHIANS.  347 

Here  the  frog  remained  until  morning.  The  following 
day  I  removed  the  pail,  and  buried  it  within  fifty  yards 
of  a  running  brook.  I  then  took  seven  frogs  of  three 
species  and  placed  them  upon  the  sieve,  which  was  about 
half  an  inch  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  Here  five 
of  them  remained  during  the  whole  day,  exposed  to  the 
glare  and  heat  of  a  cloudless  midsummer  day.  The 
evaporation  from  the  water  beneath  them  barely  kept 
them  alive ;  and  yet  within  so  short  a  distance  was  a  run- 
ning brook,  with  all  the  attractive  features  of  ideal  frog- 
life. 

I  repeated  this  experiment,  with  slight  modifications, 
several  times,  and  always  with  essentially  the  same  re- 
sults. 

Hoping  to  find  that  in  the  pursuit  of  prey,  which  is 
principally  insects,  frogs  would  display  some  intelligence, 
I  tried  several  experiments  to  test  their  ingenuity ;  but  it 
was  of  no  avail.  Unless  the  food  could  be  easily  reached 
by  making  the  simple  exertion  of  a  single  leap,  the  frogs 
would  go  hungry.  Subsequently  I  placed  a  large  fly 
upon  a  piece  of  thin  mica,  and  surrounded  it  with  a  circle 
of  fine  needles,  piercing  the  plate.  The  fly  thus  pro- 
tected could  only  be  seized  by  the  frog  suffering  a  severe 
pricking  of  the  jaws.  This,  I  found,  a  frog  would  suffer 
indefinitely,  in  its  attempts  to  secure  the  fly.  In  one  in- 
stance, the  frog,  which  had  been  fasting  for  seventy-two 
hours,  continued  to  snap  at  the  needle-protected  fly  until 
it  had  entirely  skinned  its  upper  jaw.  I  concluded  from 
this  that  the  wits  of  a  frog  were  too  limited  to  be  demon- 
strated. 

Some  weeks  after  having  completed  these  experi- 
ments, I  had  the  good  fortune  to  capture  two  fully 
grown  specimens  of  the  bull- frog  (Rana  Catesbyand)  ; 
and,  noticing  their  enormously  distended  sides,  I  exam- 


348  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

ined  the  stomach-contents  of  the  two.  In  one  was  a 
full-grown  chipmunk  (Tamias  striatd)  ;  in  the  other,  a 
garter-snake  (Eutania  sirtalis)  measuring  eighteen  inches 
in  length,  and  also  a  field-mouse  (Arvicola  riparia).  On 
close  examination  I  found  that  the  snake  had  partially 
swallowed  the  mouse ;  and,  while  thus  helpless,  the  frog 
had  evidently  attacked  the  snake,  and  swallowed  it. 

It  is  evident,  I  think,  that  the  frog  recognized  the 
helpless  condition  of  the  snake  at  the  time,  and  took  ad- 
vantage of  it.  If  so,  it  is  evidence  of  a  degree  of  intelli- 
gence on  the  part  of  the  animal  which  the  results  of  my 
experiments  with  these  creatures  generally  had  not  led 
me  to  expect.  Certainly  a  frog,  however  large,  will  not 
attack  even  a  small  snake  if  it  is  possessed  of  its  usual 
activity. 

A  wood-frog  that  I  have  now  had  for  several  months 
in  a  Wardian  case  shows,  however,  that  the  character  of 
its  accustomed  haunts  has  necessitated  the  exercise  of 
ingenuity  to  secure  its  food,  and  therefore  its  intelligence 
has  increased  beyond  that  of  its  aquatic  cousins. 

I  have  frequently  noticed,  when  I  placed  flies  in  the 
case,  that  the  wood-frog  singled  out  one,  and  approached 
it  in  a  very  stealthy  manner,  squatting  closely  to  the 
moss,  hiding  behind  ferns  and  dragging  itself  along, 
until  it  had  reached  a  position  suitable  for  making  a  cuc- 
cessful  leap.  If  the  fly  moved,  the  frog  would  alter  its 
position  accordingly,  and  follow  up  the  chase  with  great 
patience  and  unquestionable  skill.  At  times  it  would 
happen  that  some  one  of  the  smaller  batrachians  kept  in 
the  case  snapped  up  the  coveted  prize,  when  the  disgust 
of  the  wood-frog  would  be  plainly  shown  by  his  manner ; 
but  such  an  occurrence  never  led  to  a  quarrel. 

The  aquatic  frogs  do  not  pursue  their  prey  with  any- 
thing like  the  same  persistency  and  skill,  even  when  they 


SHORT  STUDIES  OF  BATRACHIANS.  349 

undertake  it  at  all,  and  I  am  led  to  believe  that  the  intelli- 
gence of  the  wood-frog  has  been  increased  by  its  terres- 
trial environment,  and  that  it  should  be  ranked  with  the 
common  toad,  which  has  already  been  shown  to  possess 
much  cunning.  In  other  words,  the  wood-frog  has  been 
forced  to  search  for  its  food  to  a  greater  degree  than  the 
aquatic  species  have  been,  and  hunger  is  probably  the 
most  effective  stimulus  to  the  growth  of  intelligence. 

The  salamanders,  in  the  same  way,  by  their  active 
movements,  wandering  disposition,  quickness  of  hearing, 
and  other  minor  characteristics,  give  evidence  of  greater 
intelligence  than  that  possessed  by  frogs.  This  I  can 
state  of  them,  however,  as  but  little  more  than  an  impres- 
sion ;  for  my  efforts  to  prove  them  possessed  of  much 
cunning  were  not  successful.  The  purple  salamander,  it 
is  true,  fights  when  captured,  curving  its  back  and  snap- 
ping viciously.  This  no  frog  ever  does.  The  common 
spotted  triton  (Diemyctdus)  becomes  quite  tame  when 
kept  in  an  aquarium,  and,  as  I  found,  is  soon  able  to  de- 
termine the  difference  between  a  fly  held  against  the 
glass  and  one  held  over  the  water.  I  frequently  held  a 
fly  against  the  glass  and  very  near  the  triton ;  bat  it 
took  no  notice  of  it,  after  one  or  two  efforts  to  seize  it, 
but  would  follow  my  hand,  and,  when  the  fly  was  held 
over  the  surface  of  the  water,  the  triton  promptly  leaped 
at  and  seized  it.  This  is,  indeed,  but  meager  proof  of 
intelligence,  but  seems  to  show,  I  think,  that  a  salaman- 
der is  more  cunning  than  the  generality  of  frogs,  but  not 
the  equal  of  the  common  toad. 

My  observations  lead  me  to  conclude  that  the  habits 
of  an  animal  have  much,  if  not  all,  to  do  with  the  intel- 
lectual capacity  it  possesses.  Frogs,  as  a  class,  are  not 
migratory.  They  frequent  a  given  pond  or  stream,  and, 
sustained  by  the  insect-life  that  comes  to  them,  but  is  not 


350  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HONE. 

sought,  they  pass  an  eventless  life,  trusting,  as  it  were,  to 
luck.  Such  an  existence  requires  no  intellectual  exertion, 
and  none  is  made.  The  salamanders,  on  the  contrary,  are 
far  more  wandering  and  active.  They  appear  to  be  ever 
in  search  of  food,  and,  when  lying  in  wait  for  it,  choose 
such  positions  as  experience  has  taught  them  are  best 
adapted  for  the  purpose :  at  least,  my  studies  of  such 
specimens  as  I  have  kept  in  confinement  lead  me  to  be- 
lieve so.  Intellectually,  therefore,  the  salamanders  are  in 
advance  of  most  frogs;  but  the  batrachians  as  a  class, 
although  higher  in  the  scale  of  life  than  fishes,  are,  I  be- 
lieve, inferior  to  them  in  intelligence. 


CHAPTER  XXXIY. 

BRIEF   NOTES    ON   FISHES. 

IN  front  of  my  house,  with  only  a  pleasant  stretch  of 
meadow  intervening,  flows  the  Delaware.  To  my  right, 
as  I  stand  in  the  doorway  facing  the  river,  I  can  see,  here 
and  there,  between  tall  birches  and  bending  elms,  a  little 
silvery  gleam  that  marks  the  course  of  a  sluggish,  lily- 
choked  stream  which  creeps  slowly  westward  from  the 
foot  of  the  terrace  to  the  river.  It  is  too  insignificant  a 
stream  to  merit  the  attention  of  the  geographer,  though 
it  is  worthy  of  a  more  than  passing  notice  from  the  natu- 
ralist. Its  source  is  in  a  series  of  little  springs  that  come 
bubbling  from  the  foot  of  the  terrace  or  "hill"  near  by. 
Gathering  volume  as  it  wends  its  way  riverward,  it  soon 
makes  for  itself  a  well-defined  channel  and  glides  slowly 
through  a  stately  growth  of  reeds  that  are  haunted  by  the 
king-rail  and  the  little  sora,  the  swamp-sparrow  and  the 
marsh-wrens.  Beyond,  the  silvery  birches  and  drooping 
elms  shade  its  course  and  offer  a  safe  retreat  to  the  many 
herons  that  find  a  refuge  there  by  day ;  and,  in  the  gar- 
landed month  of  May,  I  know  of  no  spot  in  which  the 
fresh  foliage  that  then  decks  these  beautiful  trees  more 
delights  the  northward-bound  warblers  or  so  tempts  them 
to  tarry  in  its  shade.  Still  moving  onward,  the  little 
river  enters  a  denser  growth  and  widens  into  a  deep, 
dark,  weedy  pond,  which  is  still  so  wild,  retired,  and 
tempting,  that  the  wary  wild-duck  does  not  hesitate  to 


352  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

visit  it,  while  the  fish-hawk  loves  it  well;  the  stately 
herons  wade  along  its  muddy  shores,  and  the  mink,  musk- 
rat,  and  otter  still  make  it  their  home. 

Still  standing  in  my  doorway,  and  looking  to  the  left, 
I  can  trace,  by  the  dense  growth  of  forest-trees,  a  nobler 
stream,  which  comes  from  the  distant  "  pines,"  and,  after 
a  tortuous  course  of  many  miles,  is  also  finally  lost  in  the 
greater  volume  of  the  seaward-flowing  Delaware.  Here 
we  have  a  total  change  in  almost  every  feature  of  the 
landscape.  The  swelling  tide  reverses  the  current  of  the 
stream  for  several  miles,  checking  the  growth  of  lilies, 
dock,  and  pond-weed.  Being  without  obstruction  on  one 
side,  the  creek  overflows  the  level  reach  of  marshy  mead- 
ow that  scarcely  defines  the  channel.  On  the  opposite 
bank  is  the  steep,  winding  terrace  that  here  turns  to  meet 
the  Delaware. 

In  these  three  streams  the  conditions  are  so  different 
that  we  might  well  expect  to  find  many  fishes  of  many 
kinds.  "We  are  not,  however,  confined  to  these  three 
streams  alone,  as  there  are  scores  of  connecting  ditches, 
and  many  spring- fed  ponds,  wherein  the  golden  sunfish 
and  the  silvery  minnow  love  to  linger. 

In  all  these  places,  whether  river,  creek,  pond,  or 
ditch,  there  are  many  fishes,  both  great  and  small.  Let 
us,  then,  go  fishing — fishing,  not  for  the  purpose  of  catch- 
ing them,  but  of  studying  them.  Many  difficulties  will 
beset  us  in  this  pursuit ;  but  we  are  not  without  means  of 
overcoming  them,  an  unlimited  amount  of  patience  being 
the  prime  necessity. 

The  principal  drawback  to  the  study  of  the  habits  of 
fishes  is,  of  course,  our  inability,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, to  watch  them  in  any  large  body  of  water,  or  in 
streams  that  have  a  rapid  current.  The  most  that  we  can 
do  is  to  see  them  swim  past  and  note  the  simple  fact  of 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  353 

their  presence.  By  the  aid  of  aquaria  we  have  been  able 
to  remedy  this  difficulty  to  some  extent ;  but  still,  if  the 
habits  of  even  our  commonest  fishes  are  to  be  thoroughly 
known,  wTe  must  patiently  pass  hours  by  the  water-side, 
and  exercise  our  ingenuity  in  every  way  to  determine 
what  is  going  on  in  the  depths  below.  One  simple  way 
of  doing  this,  practicable  at  least  in  quiet  ponds,  is  to 
insert  a  silvered  tube,  with  a  flaring  or  trumpet  mouth 
protected  by  a  glass  disk,  into  the  bottom  of  a  boat  or 
raft,  and  then  lying  down,  to  cover  yourself  with  a  blan- 
ket in  order  to  exclude  the  light,  and  so  quietly  float 
along,  looking  through  the  submerged  tube  into  the 
depths  below.  By  this  means  you  can  see  objects  at 
great  depths,  especially  if  the  sun  be  shining. 

I  was  led  to  try  this  plan,  because  I  had  read,  in  Hen- 
ry's "Travels  in  Canada,"  that  in  practically  the  same 
manner  the  Indians  of  that  country  determined  the 
whereabouts  of  the  large  trout  in  winter,  and  speared 
them  through  holes  cut  in  the  ice.  This  author  says : 
"  In  order  to  spear  trout  under  the  ice,  holes  being  first 
cut  of  two  yards  in  circumference,  cabins  of  about  two 
feet  in  height  are  built  over  them  of  small  branches  of 
trees,  and  these  are  further  covered  with  skins,  so  as 
wholly  to  exclude  the  light.  The  design  and  result  of 
this  contrivance  is  to  render  it  practicable  to  discern  ob- 
jects in  the  water  at  a  very  considerable  depth.  ...  So 
completely  do  the  rays  of  light  pervade  the  element,  that 
in  three-fathom  water  I  have  often  seen  the  shadows  of 
the  fish  on  the  bottom  following  them  as  they  moved, 
and  this  when  the  ice  itself  was  two  feet  in  thickness." 

In  the  way  that  I  have  mentioned,  years  ago,  I  famil- 
iarized myself  with  the  every-day  life  of  all  our  commoner 
fishes  ;  saw  what  food  they  ate  and  how  they  procured  it ; 
learned  what  were  their  enemies  and  how  thev  avoided 


354  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

them ;  found  out  what  fishes  were  sociable  and  which 
were  solitary ;  saw  abundant  evidence,  in  short,  of  their 
possessing  a  sense  of  pleasure,  of  fear,  cunning,  and  mem- 
ory; and  with  these  faculties,  even  if  exercised  in  the 
most  primitive  manner,  what  may  we  not  expect  of  fishes 
when,  without  exciting  their  suspicion,  we  follow  them 
patiently  hour  after  hour  ? 

In  looking  over  the  most  recent  faunal  lists  of  this 
portion  of  the  country,  I  find  that  the  Delaware  and  its 
tributaries  are  credited  with  between  fifty  and  sixty 
species  of  fishes.  Some  of  them  I  know  nothing  about, 
albeit  in  one  instance  I  am  quoted  as  the  authority  for 
the  presence  in  the  Delaware  of  one  such  little  fish. 
What  there  is  in  the  books  that  more  interests  me  is  the 
fact  that,  of  the  fishes  enumerated,  forty-nine  are  found 
within  the  range  of  my  quiet  rambles  about  home.  Of 
all  that  frequent  these  waters,  forty-nine  I  am  sure  have 
names  ;  and  as  there  may  possibly  be  others  without  names, 
I  am  always  on  the  lookout  for  them,  and  also  for  those 
that  may  have  wandered  beyond  the  habitat  assigned 
them  by  the  systernatists.  Much  of  our  zoological  litera- 
ture is,  in  this  respect,  somewhat  amusing.  By  a  precon- 
ceived notion  of  what  should  be  the  geographical  distribu- 
tion of  our  fishes,  and  other  animals  as  well,  these  "  syste- 
matic "  writers  gravely  assert  that  in  such  a  river  such  a  fish 
is  found,  but  that  it  never  wanders  either  to  the  eastward 
or  westward.  Perhaps  originally  this  was  true  of  our 
rivers,  as  the  river  itself  determined  the  range  of  specific 
variation  that  has  ultimately  come  about ;  but  no  river 
could  retain  all  the  species  that  originated  in  it.  There 
are  too  many  possible  ways  by  which  fish  can  be  safely 
transported  long  distances,  for  us  to  assert  that  none  of 
them  have  operated  in  stocking  a  neighboring  stream  with 
species  not  native  and  to  the  manner  born.  There  is 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  355 

undoubted  evidence  on  record  of  whirlwinds  gathering 
up  immense  numbers  of  minute  tish  and  landing  them 
safely  miles  and  miles  away.  These  showers  of  fishes, 
frogs,  and  even  salamanders,  are  not  unknown,  even  if  they 
are  uncommon ;  and  strange  would  it  be  if  all  such  wind- 
transported  species  should  fall  upon  dry  ground,  and 
never  into  the  water.  Fertilized  eggs,  too,  can  likewise 
be  blown  a  long  distance,  even  over  low  ranges  of  hills 
which  sometimes  separate  river  valleys,  and  so  give  rise 
to  a  race  of  fishes  that  previously  were  unknown  in  the 
locality.  Eggs,  too,  might  readily  adhere  to  the  mud 
that  often  clings  to  the  feet  of  wading  birds,  and  would 
thus  be  gently  replaced  in  a  distant  river,  miles  away  from 
that  in  which  they  were  deposited  by  the  parent  fish. 
The  present  extensive  system  of  canals,  also,  has  tended 
to  mingle  the  ichthyic  faunas  of  our  various  river  sys- 
tems. And  when  all  these  possible,  probable,  and  actual 
conditions  are  considered,  it  need  excite  no  wonder  if  in 
any  one  of  our  rivers  or  its  tributaries  we  now  find  occa- 
sional individuals  of  unsuspected  species. 

In  taking  up  the  consideration  of  our  several  fishes 
separately,  it  will  be  well  to  follow  some  definite  method, 
and  therefore  I  shall  treat  them  in  the  order  in  which 
they  are  named  in  the  later  systems.  The  one  which  heads 
the  list,  in  a  little  hand-book  by  my  side — Jordan's  "  Man- 
ual of  Vertebrates" — is  the  "hog-n'sh"  ;  and  it  is  of  this 
that  I  will  first  speak.  Why  it  is  so  called  I  can  not  say, 
as  it  surely  has  neither  the  habits  nor  the  appearance  of 
any  hog  that  I  have  ever  seen.  It  belongs  to  a  family  of 
most  curious  fishes,  known  collectively  as  li  darters,"  or 
etheostomoids,  and  I  prefer  to  call  this  one  the  "  sand- 
perch."  These  "  darters"  have  been  well  described  as  pre- 
ferring "  clear,  running  water,  where  they  lie  on  the  bot- 


356  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

torn  concealed  under  stones  (not  always),  darting,  when 
frightened  or  hungry,  with  great  velocity  for  a  short  dis- 
tance by  a  powerful  movement  of  the  fan-shaped  pectoral 
iins,  then  stopping  as  suddenly  ....  All  are  carnivorous, 
and,  in  their  way,  voracious." 

There  are  several  species  of  these  darters  found  in 
oar  streams.  Of  this  I  am  well  convinced ;  but  I  have 
not  so  surely  identified  more  than  two.  Of  these,  the 
larger  is  the  sand-perch.  To  find  it,  we  must  hunt  some 
little  bed  of  clean  sand  among  the  rocks  of  the  river,  and 
sharp  eyes  will  be  required  to  detect  it,  even  when  we 
are  sure  of  its  whereabouts.  Here,  resting  on  the  sand,  it 
remains  "stock  still,"  and  one  would  almost  think  it 
dead;  but  let  a  shadow  pass  over  it  even,  or  a  baby 
crayfish  dare  to  come  near,  and,  like  a  flash  of  light,  both 
fish  and  little  crustacean  have  disappeared.  Often,  when 
fishing  for  perch,  I  have  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  boat, 
and,  scanning  closely  every  square  inch  of  sand,  have  final- 
ly caught  a  glimpse  of  a  sand-perch.  The  perch  proper 
would  be  for  the  time  forgotten,  and  the  little  etheosto- 
moid,  or  darter,  command  all  my  attention.  No  matter  if 
the  sun  did  burn  my  neck,  or  the  larger  fish  were  biting 
eagerly :  the  chance  was  too  good  to  lose,  and  down  into 
the  depths  I  would  gaze  while  the  little  fish  remained. 
If  nothing  eatable  came  by,  the  darter  would  be  content 
to  remain  idle ;  but  this  does  not  long  continue,  for  sooner 
or  later  some  little  speck,  one  could  not  tell  what,  would 
float  by,  and  with  a  jerk,  jump,  twist,  and  wiggle,  that 
speck  had  gone — so,  too,  the  darter.  This  indeed  about 
covers  my  knowledge  of  its  habits — at  least,  so  far  as  I 
have  seen  it  in  the  river,  for  I  know  nothing  as  to  where 
and  when  it  lays  its  eggs.  Under  different  and  some- 
what peculiar  circumstances,  however,  I  have  several  times 
met  with  this  little  darter,  and  these  instances  merit  a 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  357 

moment's  notice.  With  the  incoming  tide  that  makes  up 
Crosswicks  Creek,  a  score  or  more  of  these  darters  will 
often  stray  into  each  of  the  little  depressions  in  the 
adjoining  meadows  which  are  slowly  covered  by  the 
steadily  increasing  volume  of  water.  These  depressions 
are  the  faint  channels  through  which  the  last  ripples  of 
tho  receding  waters  retire,  and  are  often  irregular  from 
the  little  sand-ridges  which  the  currents  and  cross-trick- 
lings  form,  and  also  are  often  dotted  with  regular,  cup- 
shaped  holes  where  the  cows  have  chanced  to  pass  over 
the  wet  sand.  At  high  tide  all  is  serene,  and  the  hungry 
darters  gayly  pass  to  "fresh  fields  and  pastures  new," 
confident  of  a  goodly  feast  on  the  myriad  insects  that  the 
encroaching  waters  have  entrapped.  But  soon  a  change 
comes  over  the  spirit  of  their  realities — for,  if  fishes  do 
not  sleep,  they  can  not  dream — and  all  unheeding  of  the 
fickleness  of  the  tide,  they  soon  find  themselves  left,  not 
high  and  dry  indeed,  but  in  the  little  treacherous  holes 
and  hollows  in  the  sand  and  short  grass  from  which  the 
waters  crept  so  stealthily  that  their  suspicion  was  never 
aroused.  Slowly,  too,  this  lingering  water  is  sinking  away 
in  the  loose  sand,  and  the  burning  sun  above  makes  them 
all  the  more  uncomfortable.  "  What  shall  I  do  ? "  each 
and  every  one  asks,  not  in  so  many  words,  but  by  so 
many  acts.  Around  the  little  shadow  of  a  pond  they 
jerkily  crawl,  but  find  no  watery  outlet.  Then,  as  they 
quietly  contemplate  their  fix,  they  find  themselves,  not 
short  of  breath,  but  of  water,  and,  willing  to  trust  to  luck, 
they  give  a  mighty  jump,  knowing  that  they  can  get 
in  no  worse  position  on  the  other  side  of  the  pitiless 
ridge  of  sand  that  surrounds  them.  Do  they  see  the  re- 
ceding waters  in  the  distance,  as  they  leap  over  the  sandy 
ridges  and  from  hollow  to  hollow,  or  do  they  smell  the 
water  or  hear  it  flow  ?  At  all  events,  they  jump  gener- 


358  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

ally  creekward,  and  soon  find  larger  pools,  and  then  still 
larger,  until  again  they  can  swim,  and  away  they  scatter 
over  the  sandy  bed  of  the  beautiful  creek  that  has  served 
them  such  a  trick. 

The  sand-perch  can  not  always  escape  as  easily  as  I 
have  described.  The  birds  have  learned  at  last  to  know 
of  the  mishap  that  so  often  occurs  to  them,  and  the  pur- 
ple grakles,  the  red-winged  blackbirds,  the  little  bittern, 
and  the  fish-crows  do  not  fail  to  hasten  to  the  bared 
sands  as  the  tide  goes  down,  and  cut  short  the  career  of 
these  little  fish  while  on  their  forced  overland  journeys. 

Most  curious  of  all,  however,  is  the  means  adopted  by 
some  of  the  fish  to  escape  the  inconvenience  caused  by  the 
treacherous  tide  and  the  attacks  of  the  birds  to  which 
they  are  at  the  same  time  subjected.  With  a  desperate 
wriggle  they  will  displace  a  portion  of  sand,  and  burrow 
so  far  downward  that  they  reach  a  spot  sufficiently  moist 
to  sustain  life,  although  without  a  drop  of  accessible  free 
water.  Here,  patiently  or  impatiently,  one  can  scarcely 
say  which,  they  await  the  return  of  good  times,  of  in- 
creasing waters,  of  jolly  high  tide.  Perhaps  they  are 
not  to  be  caught  thus  a  second  time,  though  it  is  pos- 
sible that  they  may  be ;  and,  if  so,  why  is  not  an  occurrence 
like  this  the  starting-point  in  a  change  of  habits  which 
will  ultimately  result  in  accustoming  them  to  mud  and 
sand,  like  the  mud-minnow  (of  which  more  anon)  ? 

The  other  darter,  or  sand-perch,  common  to  these 
waters  is  a  smaller  fish,  so  small  that  its  presence  is  often 
unsuspected.  Like  its  cousin,  the  "  hog-fish,"  it  can  not 
swim  more  than  three  or  four  u  strokes "  before  it  has 
either  to  come  to  a  standstill,  or  at  any  rate  put  "  one 
foot  on  bottom,"  as  boys  do  when  learning  the  same  art. 

While  not  averse  to  trying  its  fortune  even  in  the  river, 
this  little  fish — Olmsted's  darter — wanders  indefinitely 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  359 

up-stream,  and  no  puddle  is  too  small  for  him,  provided 
it  always  holds  water.  They  have  no  more  fancy  for  a 
sun-bath  than  the  preceding.  Where  I  have  found 
them  in  greatest  abundance,  is  in  a  little  shallow  just  off 
the  main  channel  of  the  smaller  creek  I  have  mentioned 
in  a  foregoing  page.  There  is  here  a  muddy  bottom, 
with  a  thin  superstratum  of  fine  sand  upon  it.  No  per- 
ceptible current  flows  over  it,  and  the  little  darters,  faint- 
ly marking  the  sand  whenever  they  come  to  a  rest,  can 
be  tracked  by  these  little  impressions.  Here  I  have  seen 
hundreds  of  them  quietly  resting  on  their  leg-like  fins 
and  waiting,  not  for  something  to  turn  up,  but  to  come 
near,  when  they  are  up  and  at  it.  They  do  not,  how- 
ever, depend  on  such  a  slim  chance  for  a  sufficiency  of 
food,  as  they  are  as  carnivorous  as  crocodiles  and  have 
the  digestion  of  an  ostrich.  Their  predilection  for  these 
quiet,  watery  by-ways  seems  to  be  brought  about  by  the 
habits  of  other  animals,  which,  bringing  their  food  to 
these  retreats  to  enjoy  it  at  leisure,  always  leave  innu- 
merable fragments  for  the  benefit  of  the  darters.  In- 
deed, these  fish  do  not  wait  always  for  the  crumbs  that 
may  fall  from  some  mightier  creature's  table,  as  I  have 
often  seen  them  crowd  around  some  happy  turtle  that 
had  brought  a  fish  or  fragment  of  flesh  to  this  shallow  in 
order  to  dine  in  peace.  The  little  darters,  however,  did 
not  wait  to  be  invited,  but,  standing  at  the  other  end  of 
the  fish  or  flesh,  would  give  it  little  tugs  and  nips  while 
the  turtle  was  busily  engaged  in  biting  off  larger  mouth- 
fuls.  These  darters  are  the  most  persistent  egg-hunters 
anywhere  to  be  found,  and,  in  spite  of  the  vigilance  of 
the  parent  fish,  will  dart  in  and  out  and  swallow  the  eggs 
that  have  been  laid  and  placed  with  so  much  care.  Many 
fishes  so  place  their  eggs  that  they  are  not  accessible  to 
the  darters ;  but  when  laid  in  the  sand,  as  the  sunfish  do, 


360  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

or  among  loose  pebbles  only,  the  darters  can  readily  find 
them,  and  they  quickly  devour  all  they  discover.  Were 
it  not  for  this  unfortunate  habit,  these  little  fish  would 
merit  our  kindly  consideration,  as  they  help,  to  a  certain 
extent,  in  keeping  pure  the  waters  of  the  streams  they 
frequent. 

I  have  said  there  are  but  two  kinds  of  darters  in 
our  waters.  I  meant  but  two  of  whose  identification  I 
was  sure.  There  is,  or  was,  a  third.  Some  years  ago, 
in  a  pretty  stream,  which  my  neighbors  persist  in  calling 
the  "  Ten-foot  Ditch,"  I  found  a  few  crimson-marked 
specimens,  that  were  wholly  unlike  the  others,  playing 
on  and  in  silvery  white  sand.  The  following  autumn 
the  crimson  markings  had  become  dull  brown,  but 
the  little  cylindrical  bodies  were  of  the  same  shape, 
and  the  ridiculous  efforts  of  the  little  fishes  at  natatorial 
locomotion  were  just  as  absurd.  A  few  of  these  I  bot- 
tled, and  they  were  pronounced  to  be  the  Hololepis  ero- 
chrous.  I  was  glad  to  find  they  had  a  name;  but  since 
then,  ten  years  ago,  I  have  been  too  busy  to  use  it,  and 
find  that  "  crimson  darter  "  meets  all  my  needs. 

Passing  on,  in  two  ways,  to  a  new  page  of  the  faunal 
list  and  to  deep  waters,  we  come  at  once  to  what  has 
always  seemed,  and  really  is,  a  model  fish.  It  is  com- 
plete in  every  feature,  and  there  is  nothing  flabby  about 
it,  like  a  sucker  or  roach ;  nor  is  it  out  of  date  and  clumsy, 
like  a  gar-pike.  I  mean  the  yellow  perch. 

So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  follow  it,  this  fish  re- 
mains throughout  its  first  year,  and  often  for  many  years, 
in  the  stream  in  which  it  was  hatched.  Of  course,  where 
it  happens  that  the  ova  has  been  deposited  in  some  little 
out-of-the-way  brook  which  grows  smaller  as  the  summer 
passes,  then  the  young  perch  will  find  their  way  into 
deeper  and  cooler  waters ;  but  they  do  not  wander  far 


BRIEF  NOTES   ON  FISHES.  361 

from  their  birth-place.  For  instance,  many  perch  leave 
the  Delaware,  and,  seeking  out  suitable  localities  in  the 
tributaries  that  have  an  uninterrupted  outlet,  deposit 
their  ova  in  such  smaller  streams. 

This  perch,  then,  may  be  said  to  be  a  strictly  resident 
species.  There  is  not  a  month  in  the  year,  or  week  in 
any  month,  when  they  may  not  be  found.  Not  always 
are  they  so  evidently  abundant  as  in  spring  and  summer ; 
but  they  have  not  wandered  far,  and  only  a  little  closer 
search  is  needed  to  spy  them  out.  If  we  go  a-fishing 
only  in  the  river,  the  impression  of  the  rarity  of  yellow 
perch  will  soon  become  fixed  in  the  mind ;  but  this  arises 
not  so  much  from  the  actual  scarcity,  as  from  the  fact 
that  they  do  not  bite  at  a  hook  as  readily  as  when  in  the 
still  waters  of  our  ponds.  The  nets,  however,  tell  the 
story,  and  prove  that  they  are  in  the  river,  and  abundant- 
ly too,  in  spite  of  the  firm  belief  of  the  line-fisher  that 
"  there  are  no  yellow  perch  in  the  river."  When  it  comes 
to  comparing  perch  with  sunfish,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
evident  that,  however  abundant  relatively  they  are  in  any 
of  the  neighboring  streams,  they  are  far  outnumbered  by 
these  less  desirable  percoids. 

What  the  maximum  size  of  a  yellow  perch  may  be  is 
as  yet  undetermined.  I  never  have  seen  a  monster 
among  them,  but  my  neighbors  report  a  supermonstrous 
one,  and  so  I  leave  the  question  open.  I  have  knowledge 
of  one  caught  in  the  Delaware  that  weighed  four  pounds 
and  a  quarter.  This  I  mentioned  once  in  the  fish-market ; 
but  the  old  gray-beards  there  sniffed  contemptuously,  and 
told  marvelous  tales  of  the  wonderful  size  of  the  perch 
they  had  caught.  Such  fish,  however,  never  get  to  mar- 
ket, and  the  tales  need  not  be  repeated. 

The  yellow  perch  appears  to  be  equally  at  home  in 
very  different  localities.  As  a  still-water  pond  fish,  if 


362  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

there  is  a  fair  supply  of  spring  water,  they  thrive  excel- 
lently ;  but  the  largest  specimens  I  have  ever  seen  were 
either  from  the  river  or  from  the  outlets  of  the  larger  in- 
flowing creeks.  Occasionally  they  have  been  found  in 
very  shallow  waters ;  but  the  attraction  was  very  evident : 
they  were  following  up  the  millions  of  small  minnows 
which  frequent  all  the  smaller  brooks.  Indeed,  with  all 
our  perches  it  is  the  story  of  the  blue-fish  and  moss- 
bunkers  of  our  sea-coast  over  again.  They  chase  the  small 
fish  upon  which  they  feed  even  to  such  shallow  waters 
that  they  are  themselves  occasionally  entrapped.  If  not 
feeding,  then  deep  water  is  preferred,  and  often  I  have 
seen  numbers  of  them  resting  apparently  upon  the  bed 
of  the  stream,  side  by  side,  and  all  with  their  heads  up- 
stream, just  as,  in  August,  one  may  see  often  a  closely- 
packed  mass  of  crimson  red-fins  in  a  deep  pool  of  some 
rapidly  flowing  brook.  Still,  as  such  scenes  are  not  com- 
mon among  the  perch  the  year  through,  perhaps  they  can 
best  be  described  as  a  semi-social  fish.  "Without  going 
in  schools,  as  do  the  herrings,  they  are  usually  found  to- 
gether in  considerable  numbers,  though  this  association 
perhaps  results  rather  from  the  attractiveness  of  the  lo- 
cality than  from  any  pleasure  in  associating  with  their 
own  kind.  This  is  one  of  those  impressions  that  a  close 
observer  will  sometimes  get  without  being  able  to  adduce 
any  evidence  of  the  fact.  At  all  times  these  perch  free- 
ly associate  with  other  percoids  in  the  same  manner  as 
with  individuals  of  their  own  kind.  Thus  a  single  yel- 
low perch  will  often  be  found  with  a  school  of  white 
perch  or  of  rock-fish,  or  there  may  be  a  mixed  company 
of  the  three  kinds  in  very  unequal  numbers. 

As  the  pursuit  of  food  is  the  one  prominent  object  of 
their  restless  lives,  of  course  all  the  fishes  of  a  given 
pond  or  stream,  having  like  habits,  will  be  brought  close- 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  363 

]y  together.  While  we  find  that  hawks  of  different  kinds 
will  often  quarrel  when  chance  brings  them  together,  and 
the  same  may  be  said  of  carnivorous  mammals,  it  does 
not  appear  that  this  is  the  case  among  fishes.  I  have 
never  seen  anything  on  the  part  of  any  of  our  perches 
that  indicated  anger,  and  certainly  never  saw  a  u  fight 
going  on  "  among  them.  Fish  generally  are  very  playful ; 
but  this  never  ends  in  a  row,  so  far  as  I  have  seen. 

A  far  more  interesting  fish  than  the  preceding,  be- 
cause there  is  a  mystery  about  its  breeding  habits,  is  the 
rock-fish,  striped  bass,  and  "streaked  snapper,"  as  this 
percoid  is  variously  called.  For  years  I  thought  I  knew 
this  fish  thoroughly,  but  it  seems  not — at  least,  so  far  as 
being  able  to  say  when  and  where  it  breeds  ;  but  of  this 
hereafter. 

Nearly  two  centuries  ago  Gabriel  Thomas  mentions 
Hock  among  our  fishes  as  one  of  the  goodly  sorts  that  ac- 
quired great  size.  This  is  true  of  them  still ;  but  it  is 
not  common  now  to  find  them  weighing  twenty  pounds  or 
more.  It  is  accounted  now  good  fishing  to  catch  many 
weighing  twenty  ounces.  Even  longer  ago,  one  Mahlon 
Stacy,  who  settled  the  spot  now  called  Trenton,  recorded 
his  fishing  experiences,  and,  in  the  course  of  that  account, 
he  says :  "  We  have  great  plenty  of  most  sorts  of  fish  that 
ever  I  saw  in  England,  besides  several  others  that  are  not 
known  there,  as  rocks,  cat-fish,  shads,  sheep's-heads,  and 
sturgeon."  This  is  the  earliest  reference  to  the  fish  in 
the  Delaware  that  I  can  find. 

At  present  the  rock-fish  is  found  not  only  in  the  river, 
but  in  such  inflowing  creeks  as  have  water  sufficient  for  it 
to  swim.  "When  very  young  it  delights  in  wandering 
into  little  streams  to  catch  the  myriads  of  small  min- 
nows that  congregate  in  the  eddies  of  every  brook. 


364:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Just  as  the  larger  fish  feed  upon  shiners  in  the  river,  "  at 
the  turn  of  the  tide,"  so  too  do  little  rock-fish,  scarcely 
two  inches  in  length,  gather  about  still  smaller  shiners, 
and  capture  them  as  dexterously,  and  devour  them  as 
voraciously,  as  ever  did  an  adult  fish.  Prior  to  the  erec- 
tion of  the  dam  near  the  mouth  of  the  Assunpink  Creek, 
at  Trenton,  the  rock-fish  ascended  this  creek,  as  I  found 
bones  of  this  fish  in  considerable  quantity  in  an  Indian 
shell-heap  three  miles  above  the  outlet.  It  still  passes 
up  Crosswicks  Creek  in  large  numbers,  entering  it  at 
Bordentown,  and  going  as  far  as  the  dam  at  Groveville  ; 
and  if  I  were  not  assured  of  the  contrary,  I  would  say 
that  these  rock-fish  spawned  in  this  creek.  It  seems, 
however,  that  such  is  not  the  case.  In  the  course  of  a 
day's  ramble,  March  2,  1879,  I  met  with  an  experienced 
fisherman,  and  questioned  him  closely  about  these  fish. 
Here  are  his  words,  taken  down  while  he  was  talking : 

"  The  young  rock  fish  are  very  common,  from  one  to 
three  inches  long,  in  shallow  water  along  the  river  shore, 
where  they  swim  about  with  little  minnies,  on  which 
they  keep  a-feedin',  sometimes  eatin'  a  fish  as  big  as 
themselves. 

"  The  old  rock-fish  keep  goin'  up  the  river  from  early 
spring  until  late  in  summer,  and  in  October  and  Novem- 
ber, accordin'  as  it  is  a  late  or  early  fall,  come  down  the 
river  in  large  numbers.  In  winter,  or  very  early  in  spring, 
they  are  often  found  in  deep  holes  in  '  gangs.'  In  a 
hole  near  Newbold's  Island,  with  one  drag  of  a  net  in  a 
deep  hole,  one  hundred  and  fifty  weight  were  taken, 
rangin'  from  five  to  seventeen  pounds  weight.  I  never 
saw  a  rock-fish  with  roe  in  it,  as  I  remember,  but  young 
ones  are  common  so  small  that  I'd  a  supposed  they  were 
hatched  here  in  the  river.  Perhaps  they  go  down  to  the 
bay,  and  the  young  come  up  from  there,  like  as  we  see 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  365 

the  young  eels  a-doin'  in  spring,  when  the  stones  are 
black  with  'em  often." 

This  is  what  I  got  from  a  professional  fisherman,  who, 
to  again  use  his  words,  "  had  fished  these  waters  about 
here  for  just  fifty-seven  years  come  next  summer." 

I  had  based  my  impression,  that  the  rock-fish  bred  "  in 
these  waters,"  solely  on  the  evidence  of  young,  apparently 
too  feeble  to  have  come  from  such  a  distance — fully  one 
hundred  miles ;  but  it  seems  they  did  come  from  some- 
where down  the  river.  At  all  events,  they  get  into  tide- 
water creeks  very  early  in  life,  and,  as  the  old  fisherman 
told  me  and  I  have  myself  noticed,  they  remain  here 
pretty  much  the  year  round.  Still,  we  can  not  call  them 
resident  species  in  the  sense  of  non-migratory  fishes. 
This  they  are  not.  Possibly  no  one  individual  remains 
very  long  in  one  locality,  but  no  sooner  does  one  depart, 
than  another  takes  its  place.  Like  the  robins  among  our 
birds,  they  are  restless  and  wandering,  but  not  method- 
ically migratory. 

The  food  of  the  rock-fish  consists  exclusively  of  small 
shiners  or  cyprinoids  ;  and  it  is  the  pursuit  of  them  into 
small  streams  that  explains  their  presence  in  places  where 
one  would  hardly  expect  to  find  them.  A  rock-fish  will 
frequently  "corner  up"  a  small  school  of  shiners,  and 
then  pick  them  up  as  rapidly  and  with  as  great  ease  as  a 
fowl  will  pick  grains  of  corn,  and,  while  devouring  the 
luckless  minnows,  it  will  keep  them  all  the  time  huddled 
together  in  a  small  space.  There  is  no  cessation  of  this 
murderous  work  while  a  shiner  remains,  for,  after  de- 
vouring all  that  it  is  possible  for  it  to  eat,  a  mere  love  of 
destruction  keeps  the  rock-fish  still  at  work. 

I  once  had  a  very  favorable  opportunity  for  watching 
one  of  these  fishes  feed  in  this  manner.  It  was  of  mod- 
erate size,  being  about  twelve  inches  in  length.  As  near- 


366  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

ly  as  I  could  determine,  it  devoured  twelve  silver-fins — a 
fish  about  three  inches  long — in  four  minutes.  If  I  err 
in  my  estimate,  it  is  on  the  safe  side,  as  it  may  have  been 
fifteen  that  were  devoured  in  that  length  of  time.  Sub- 
sequently I  captured  a  dozen  of  these  exquisite  minnows, 
and  found  that  I  could  not  squeeze  them  into  a  mass  of 
the  size  of  a  rock-fish  one  foot  in  length ;  and  yet  the 
fish  did  not  appear  to  be  distended,  though  in  this  case 
it  is  very  certain  that  the  captured  minnows  were  swal- 
lowed without  preliminary  decapitation  or  other  reduc- 
tion of  size,  for  in  that  case  I  should  have  seen  the 
fragments  floating  in  the  clear  water. 

A  third  perch,  but  one  which  no  longer  reaches  the 
size  that  it  did  in  the  days  of  our  grandfathers,  is  the 
well-known  white  perch,  or  "  river-bass."  As  a  little  fish, 
measuring  but  an  inch  or  little  more,  it  makes  its  appear- 
ance in  the  river  in  schools  of  thousands.  Preying  upon 
the  equally  abundant  minnows  of  the  same  stream,  they 
grow  with  great  rapidity,  and  by  August  are  very  gamy, 
and  large  enough  for  "  pan  fish."  This  is  the  brief,  prosy 
history  of  a  splendid  fish. 

Years  ago  I  was  satisfied  that  both  the  white  perch 
and  rock-fish  spawned  in  the  clear,  cold,  upper  waters  of 
the  river  and  in  certain  of  the  tributary  creeks.  This,  it 
seems,  is  not  the  case.  Just  where  they  breed  is  a  ques- 
tion not  yet  answerable ;  but  the  "  somewhere  "  is  at  some 
distance  from  the  supposed  spot,  and  the  little  fish,  newly 
hatched,  or  at  least  comparatively  young,  come  up  the 
river  early  in  spring,  and,  once  here,  remain  for  more  or 
less  time,  according  to  the  character  of  the  season,  abun- 
dance of  food,  and  other  causes.  One  point,  however,  in 
their  habits  needs  to  be  dwelt  upon  in  this  connection : 
fish  with  well-developed  ova  are  frequently  found  in  the 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  367 

river  in  May  and  June.  It  is  now  thought  that  these  ova 
are  carried  until  late  in  autumn,  and  then  deposited  on 
the  accustomed  spawning-grounds,  supposed  to  be  some- 
where in  the  lower  bay. 

Both  the  rock-fish  and  white  perch,  then,  must  be 
classed  with  the  migratory  fishes,  and  therefore  are  wide- 
ly different  from  the  yellow  perch,  which  is  a  resident. 
This  can  live  and  thrive  in  any  pond,  and  exhibits  little 
taste  for  extensive  rambling,  at  least  as  compared  with 
the  others. 

Both  the  rock-fish  and  white  perch,  nevertheless,  can 
be  "land-locked,"  and  individually  they  will  thrive  in 
this  condition  if  provided  with  unlimited  food.  That 
they  would  breed,  when  thus  "  land-locked,"  is  doubtful. 


The  latest  results  of  studies  of  pickled  "sunnies"- 
shapeless  mass  of  faded  and  distorted  fish,  half  preserved 
in  weak  alcohol,  or  bleached  and  bent  by  too  strong 
spirits — is  that  in  the  Delaware  valley  there  are  eight 
species.  Of  these  some  are  unmistakable,  for  among 
sunfish,  or  Centrarchidce,  are  included  the  black  bass, 
goggle-eyed  perch,  the  mud  sunfish,  the  "  copper-bellies," 
as  well  as  the  "  sunnies  "  proper,  all  of  which  are  familiar 
to  every  boy  in  the  country.  About  one  or  two  so- 
called  species  we  need  not  now  concern  ourselves,  as  they 
float  in  pickle,  but  do  not  swim  in  fresh  water ;  and  it  is 
only  with  those  that  can  be  found  any  day  in  the  week 
that  we  are  interested. 

However,  let  us  follow  the  faunal  list  in  the  manual 
at  hand,  and  consider  seriatim  some  of  our  sunfish 
proper. 

Heading  the  list  is  a  most  interesting  and  well-defined 
species,  the  mud  sunfish. 

In  one  of  my  neighbor's  meadows  there  is  a  deep 


368  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

ditch,  which  a  century  of  freshets  has  widened  and  deep- 
ened, until  now  it  has  all  the  appearance  of  a  spring 
pond.  A  growth  of  birches  hides  it  from  view  until  we 
reach  the  very  shade  of  the  trees,  and  all  the  summer 
the  water  is  quite  concealed  by  a  marvelously  rank 
growth  of  splatter-dock  and  white  lilies.  Upward  from 
these  lily-buds  and  dock-leaves  extends  a  slimy  black 
log,  that  is  now  worn  as  smooth  as  ebony  by  the  friction 
of  turtles'  feet  and  shells ;  for  here  every  day  through- 
out the  summer  rest  all  the  turtles  that  can  crowd  upon 
it.  The  banks  of  this  pond  or  ditch  are  steep  and  high, 
of  a  stiff  clay,  and  burrowed  through  and  through  by  the 
colony  of  muskrats  that  are  known  to  dwell  here,  but 
which  are  seldom  seen,  and  are  too  cunning  to  be  caught. 
Much  as  there  is  here,  in  broad  daylight,  to  be  seen  and 
enjoyed,  I  often  pass  all  by,  and  drag  a  scoop-net  among 
the  weeds,  in  the  expectation  of  making  some  rare  "finds." 
Nor  am  I  often  disappointed.  Among  the  curious  ob- 
jects I  bring  to  light  from  these  weedy  depths  is  this 
mud  sunfish.  Dull  brown  and  black,  with  gilt,  green, 
and  bronze  reflections,  it  is  a  pretty  fish,  seen  at  its  best, 
and  one  worth  careful  study.  A  glance  shows  that  it  is 
unlike  the  ordinary  sunfish.  Longer  in  body,  with  more 
spines  in  the  fins  above  and  below,  and  a  generally  bass- 
like  appearance,  it  gives  the  impression  of  a  gamy  fish, 
and  this  it  really  is. 

Inasmuch  as  all  fishes  in  the  breeding  season  are  more 
interesting  than  during  the  other  eleven  months  of  the 
year,  it  is  desirable  to  know  all  about  them  in  this  par- 
ticular month.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  this  month 
will  have  to  be  passed  over  in  silence.  I  never  could 
find  their  nests,  although  I  have  stirred  up  acres  of  mud 
in  search  of  them.  Stranger  still,  I  never  could  find  any 
very  young  specimens  —  none  that  were  less  than  six 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  369 

months  old.  Certainly,  the  mud  sunfish  is  cunning  in 
hiding  her  nest  and  eggs,  and  the  young  fry  know  well 
how  to  keep  out  of  the  way.  As  other  desiderata  in 
zoology  have  been  gathered  up  when  least  expected,  so, 
too,  in  this  case  I  suppose  I  shall  stumble  across  the 
nest  and  young  some  day  when  looking  for  other  objects. 

That  the  spawn  is  deposited  in  spring  is  evident  from 
the  condition  of  the  females  in  April.  In  May,  too,  I 
have  noticed  that  the  metallic  luster  of  the  male  fish  is 
more  marked  than  later  in  summer. 

In  February,  1875,  I  placed  three  fine  specimens  of 
this  fish  in  a  large  aquarium.  The  colors  of  the  two 
males  were  then  very  bright,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they 
were  aware  of  the  fact,  as  they  moved  about  in  a  stately 
manner,  endeavoring,  I  believe,  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  female.  Except  on  such  occasions,  these  fish  are 
dull  and  listless.  I  noticed  that  my  aquarium  specimens 
much  of  the  time  assumed  a  perpendicular  position,  head 
down  and  tail  up,  in  a  bunch  of  river-weed.  The  fins 
were  without  perceptible  motion.  One  of  my  specimens 
retained  this  head-down  and  tail-up  position  for  forty 
minutes,  and,  when  driven  from  his  bunch  of  weed, 
swam  about  very  listlessly,  resuming  this  strange  posi- 
tion as  soon  as  I  would  let  him.  A  curious  freak  in 
coloration  also  was  noticed  at  this  time.  Occasionally  I 
would  go  to  the  aquarium  and  find  every  tint  had  paled 
into  an  indefinite  dull  yellow.  Not  a  trace  of  metallic 
luster  remained,  and  even  the  black  bands  were  at  best 
but  a  dull  brown.  Forced  exercise,  however,  brought 
back  the  color.  At  such  a  time  I  would  cause  them  to 
swim  rapidly  from  end  to  end  of  the  tank,  and  the  result 
was  a  restoration  of  the  normal  tints.  It  proved  to  be 
with  them,  as  with  children,  that  a  good  lively  romp 
brings  a  deeper  glow  to  the  surface.  This  sudden  change 


370  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  color  in  fishes  is  of  much  interest  in  connection  with 
the  subject  of  sexual  selection ;  but  as  this  fish  is  noctur- 
nal in  its  habits,  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  on  this  one 
occasion  in  the  year,  when  it  is  active  and  abroad  by 
day,  it  is  seeking  the  clearest  water  and  direct  sunlight 
for  the  better  display  of  its  peculiar  metallic  tints.  Cer- 
tainly the  fish  does  not  require  this  particular  coloring  as 
a  means  of  protection,  for  it  has  now  no  enemies.  The 
significance  of  the  color  is  not  known ;  but  the  fact  that 
the  fish  has  some  control  over  it,  as  the  deepening  and 
fading  out  clearly  shows,  leaves  no  room  for  doubting 
that  it  has  some  important  bearing  on  the  habits  of  the 
species,  and  that  it  is  of  great  influence  in  the  courtship 
of  fishes  is  therefore  highly  probable. 

During  succeeding  summers  I  have  several  times 
floated  over  weedy  patches  in  the  little  creek  near  by, 
and  detected  mud  sunfish  resting  in  the  river-weed.  It 
was  the  same  old  story  of  my  aquarium  specimens.  In 
every  instance  these  fish  wrere  in  the  remarkable  position 
I  have  mentioned ;  not,  indeed,  in  every  case  perpen- 
dicular, but  always  closely  approaching  it,  and  with  the 
head  downward. 

I  once  had  the  good  fortune  to  observe  a  large  speci- 
men of  this  fish  making  its  way  toward  deeper  water 
through  such  a  dense  mass  of  aquatic  vegetation  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  it  was  actually  out  of  the  water, 
apparently  creeping  among  the  weeds  by  the  aid  of  its 
ventral  fins.  It  progressed  in  this  awkward  manner  fully 
three  feet,  keeping  the  body  in  a  position  as  nearly  up- 
right as  when  swimming.  On  subsequent  examination 
I  found  that  a  large  log  was  deeply  imbedded  in  the  mud, 
with  less  than  half  an  inch  of  water  flowing  over  it ;  and 
it  was  this  barrier  that  caused  the  fish  to  imitate  success- 
fully the  reptile-like  movements  that  I  had  witnessed. 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  371 

Like  most  fishes  that  habitually  frequent  weedy  and 
muddy  waters,  this  sunfish  is  really  nocturnal  in  its 
habits,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  it  is  so  little  known. 
Like  all  other  nocturnal  fishes,  too,  it  has  a  well-developed 
voice ;  but  of  this  hereafter.  In  a  subsequent  chapter 
this  subject  will  be  treated  of  at  length ;  and  the  mud- 
sunfish  will  again  come  under  our  notice. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

BRIEF   NOTES   ON  FISHES. — (CONTINUED.) 

THE  next  sunfish  mentioned  in  the  "  Manual  "  as  one 
of  the  Delaware  River  species  is  that  known  by  me  as  a 
"brass-belly."  My  angling  friends  always  call  it  the 
"river  sunfish,"  and  this  name  covers  an  important  fact  in 
its  history.  It  is  emphatically  a  river  species,  and  very 
seldom  wanders  out  of  it.  Years  ago,  when  I  first  dared 
go  a-fishing,  my  companion,  whom  I  looked  upon  as  a  sec- 
ond Cuvier,  once  suggested  that  we  go  to  the  river  for 
"brass-bellies,"  and  the  success  of  the  day's  fishing  was 
such  that  I  have  never  forgotten  it,  or  the  name  that  Bob 
gave  these  sun  fish.  Then,  too,  on  our  return  we  were  met 
by  a  colored  fisherman  of  great  experience,  who  paused 
to  admire  "  the  string  "  we  were  carrying  homeward,  and 
he  corrected  my  companion  by  asserting  that  we  had 
caught  "  big-ears,"  and  not  "  brass-bellies."  However,  I 
was  not  convinced,  and  I  still  adhere  to  the  name  given 
them  by  my  companion,  though  the  other  is  equally  de- 
scriptive and  more  refined.  In  considering  the  signifi- 
cance of  color  with  reference  to  the  preceding  species, 
it  will  be  remembered  that  two  facts  were  prominently 
noticed  in  regard  to  the  mud  sunfish — the  absence  of  con- 
spicuous coloring  and  its  nocturnal  habits.  In  the  case 
of  the  "river  sunfish,"  or  brass-belly,  there  is,  on  the 
contrary,  very  conspicuous  coloring,  and  its  habits  are 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  373 

diurnal.  It  has  a  green  back,  red  vertical  fins,  and  a 
bright  yellow-red  belly,  with  deep  blue  on  the  sides,  blue 
stripes  on  the  head,  and  a  long,  velvety  black  ear-flap. 
Now,  the  spring  and  summer  through,  this  fish  seeks 
clear,  running  water,  and  therein  sports  the  day  long, 
leading  very  much  a  butterfly-like  existence. 

In  April,  the  colors,  always  bright;,  are  more  brilliant 
than  ever,  and  it  is  at  this  time  that  it  becomes  evident 
that  the  fish  realizes  what  color  is,  and  puts  to  good  use 
all  the  attractions  that  sexual  selection  has  evolved. 
Seeking  some  female  of  its  kind,  it  displays  itself  by  a 
series  of  graceful  manoeuvres,  which  are  highly  entertain- 
ing even  to  outsiders.  Passing  to  and  fro  before  the 
desired  female,  the  fish  will  at  times  swim  upon  one  side 
so  that  the  sunlight  will  strike  directly  upon  the  brilliant 
blua  and  crimson  hues,  and  then,  suddenly  regaining  its 
ordinary  position,  it  will  spread  all  its  fins  to  their  utmost 
and  sail  majestically  by,  giving  the  spestators  the  impres- 
sion of  a  larger  fish  than  it  really  is.  This  is  kept  up,  I 
think,  for  several  days,  and,  if  not  interrupted  by  the  in- 
trusion of  a  rival,  results  in  a  graceful  acceptance.  Here 
I  am  puzzled,  for,  as  often  as  I  have  watched  these  fish,  I 
never  could  detect  any  movement  that  would  warrant  me 
in  -interpreting  it  as  a  sign  of  acceptance.  Indeed,  it  is 
highly  probable  that  they  have  means  of  communicating 
ideas  by  movements  so  slight  as  to  escape  our  closest 
scrutiny.  In  the  spring  of  1873  I  noticed  one  of  these 
river  sunfish  endeavoring  to  make  a  favorable  impression 
upon  a  female.  Whether  she  paid  any  attention  to  the 
nervously  active  gallant,  I  can  not  tell ;  I  only  know  that 
she  remained  stationary  for  hours,  while  the  male  passed 
up  and  down,  and  from  side  to  side,  almost  as  steadily  as 
clock-work.  If  disturbed,  away  they  both  would  dart, 
but  only  to  return  in  a  few  moments,  each  to  resume  its 


374  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

former  position,  the  one  being  apparently  a  quiet  specta- 
tor of  the  graceful  submarine  gymnastics  of  the  other. 
This  continued  from  Sunday  until  Wednesday,  when  both 
fish  disappeared,  and  were  found  coon  after  building  a 
nest  some  iifty  yards  distant. 

Like  all  nest-building  fishes,  the  river  sunfish  is  very 
pugnacious  while  it  has  a  nest  under  its  care,  and  will 
defend  it  against  every  intruder.  Not  always  is  it  suc- 
cessful in  this,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  but  it  is  never  cowardly, 
even  when  turtles  and  snakes  invade  its  retreat.  Indeed, 
I  have  seen  a  red-bellied  turtle  seize  the  sunfish,  when 
too  bold  in  its  attack,  and  tear  it  nearly  to  pieces.  The 
worst  enemy,  however,  of  the  sunfish  at  such  a  time  is 
one  of  the  little  darters,  already  mentioned,  which  rushes  in 
among  the  eggs  without  being  noticed,  and  then  is  off 
and  half-buried  in  the  sand  before  the  harassed  sunfish 
can  arrest  him. 

When  the  young  fish  are  about  one  third  of  an  inch 
in  length — and  about  as  broad  as  they  are  long — they  are 
left  to  shift  for  themselves,  and  they  are  quite  equal  to 
the  demands  made  upon  them.  What  they  find  to  eat,  I 
can  not  say ;  but  their  quick  movements,  as  they  dart  rest- 
lessly about,  clearly  show  that  they  find  something,  and 
know  how  to  secure  it.  The  young  fish  of  each  season 
remain  together  for  a  year  or  more,  and  only  become 
widely  separated  as  their  steady  growth  demands  more 
extended  feeding-grounds.  This  requires  each  brood 
finally  to  scatter ;  but  if  sufficient  food  were  at  hand, 
these  fish  would  probably  remain  in  close  companies,  as 
they  appear  to  be  a  very  social  fish.  Certainly,  mated 
fishes  possess  a  strong  mutual  affection,  and  many  instances 
have  occurred  under  my  own  notice  that  indicated  this 
most  unquestionably.  I  have  further  proved  it  by  cruel 
experiments,  which  will  be  mentioned  hereafter. 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  375 

Occasionally  the  allied  blue  sunfish,  or  "copper- 
nosed  bream,"  has  been  found  in  the  Delaware.  The 
first  of  these  I  found  in  1874,  and  since  then  I  have  seen 
but  two,  until  last  August  (1881),  when  one  was  caught 
in  Crosswicks  Creek.  Somehow,  through  the  canals  or 
otherwise,  these  fish  have  reached  our  river  valley.  Here 
they  are,  and  this  is  all  I  know  about  them. 

The  common  sunfish,  the  "  sunny  "  par  excellence,  is 
next  in  the  list.  How  many  entries  in  my  note-books 
refer  to  this  fish  I  have  not  time  to  count ;  but  I  never 
went  to  Watson's  Creek  without  seeing  hundreds  of  them, 
and  never  came  home  that  I  didn't  "  put  it  down."  It 
was  not,  however,  always  a  mere  sight  of  the  fish,  and 
nothing  more,  as  I  sometimes  had  glimpses  of  its  habits, 
and  followed  it  up  until  I  learned  some  new  fact.  Such 
days  were  not  lived  in  vain. 

It  happens  that  at  what  is  called  the  "  bend  "  in  Wat- 
son's Creek  there  grows  an  enormous  elm,  the  gnarled 
and  twisted  roots  of  which  extend  out  into  the  clear 
water — clearer  for  the  spring  that  here  bubbles  up  from 
the  bed  of  the  stream.  Given  this  combination  of  creek, 
spring,  and  tree,  and  the  fourth  feature,  a  pair  of  sunfish, 
is  not  likely  to  be  wanting.  At  all  events,  in  this  case 
there  is  always  a  patriarchal  sunfish  and  his  mate  living 
in  state  among  these  elm-roots ;  and  a  ver}r  interesting 
fact  is  here  to  be  noticed  at  the  outset.  They  are  not 
merely  paired  for  the  season,  but  remain  a  faithful  and 
loving  couple  all  the  year  and  for  several  years.  One 
such  pair  did  so  live,  I  know,  and  I  believe  the  same  may 
be  said  of  them  all,  at  least  when  they  are  large  enough 
to  gain  possession  of  soms  such  nook  as  I  have  mentioned 
and  can  hold  it  against  all  intruders.  Their  worst  ene- 
mies are  men  and  boys,  of  course,  for  juvenile  anglers  in 


376  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

particular  are  prone  to  find  these  aged  "  sunnies,"  and 
exercise  all  their  ingenuity  to  capture  them.  Here  comes 
in  the  evidence  of  affection  on  the  part  of  these  fishes. 
If  one  of  them  is  hooked,  the  mate  is  at  once  aware  of 
the  fact,  and  is  prompt  to  seize  the  same  fatal  hook,  as 
though  unwilling  to  be  left  alone  and  anxious  to  follow 
its  companion  even  to  death.  Why,. it  may  be  asked,  is 
it  not  a  simple  case  of  "  good  luck "  on  the  part  of  the 
angler?  Two  fishes  were  in  the  same  "hole,"  and  both 
were  caught — the  same  bait  that  deceived  the  one  deceiv- 
ing the  other.  This  is  a  rational  explanation  of  such  an 
occurrence ;  but,  in  my  own  angling  experience,  I  have 
found  that  it  is  only  by  great  care  and  much  ingenuity 
that  these  large  fish  can  be  induced  to  bite ;  then,  if  one 
is  hooked,  the  other  follows  it  to  the  surface  of  the  water, 
and  is  evidently  excited  and  distressed,  and,  unlike  its  un- 
fortunate mate,  bites  savagely  at  the  hook  as  soon  as  it 
is  replaced  in  the  water.  It  seizes  the  hook  either  in  re- 
venge, or  because  it  realizes  that  by  so  doing  it  can  fol- 
low its  companion.  I  consider  the  facts  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  two  fishes — the  wariness  of  the  one  first 
captured,  the  recklessness  of  the  other — and  deduce  from 
it  that  the  psychology  of  fishes  is  no  myth,  but  that  in 
such  an  instance  as  here  given  there  is  evidence  of  dis- 
trust, and  of  anger,  revenge,  recklessness,  and  deep  affec- 
tion. These  traits — one  shown  by  one  of  the  fishes,  and 
the  others  by  its  mate — lead  me  to  conclude  that  the  life 
of  a  fish  is  by  no  means  a  mere  mechanical,  joyless  exist- 
ence. In  fact,  one  need  but  look  straight  into  the  eye 
of  a  large  pike,  to  be  satisfied  that  that  fish  is  every  whit 
as  wicked  in  his  thoughts  as  he  is  in  appearance,  for  pike 
do  think,  as  every  one  who  has  angled  for  them  will,  I 
think,  admit. 

To  see  our  common  sunfish  at  their  best,  it  is  neces- 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  377 

sary  to  hunt  up  their  nests  in  May.  Then  everything 
concerning  them  is  intensified.  Their  colors  are  bright- 
er, their  movements  more  active,  and  every  feature  of 
their  surroundings  is  furbished  up  and  new.  The  mud 
of  the  spring  freshets  has  all  floated  away  or  settled  to 
the  bottom  of  the  pond  ;  the  water-plants  are  not  too 
rank  to  conceal  the  fishes'  haunts ;  and  the  foliage  of  the 
overhanging  trees  is  fresh,  bright,  and  not  too  dense  for 
straggling  sunbeams  to  penetrate.  One  of  the  "  sights  " 
at  this  time,  if  we  direct  our  steps  to  the  creek,  is  the 
row  of  sunfish-nests  along  the  shore.  This  fish  at  this 
time  has  a  horror  of  dirt,  and  every  speck  other  than  fine, 
clean  sand  is  carefully  removed  from  the  shallow  circular 
depressions  which  constitute  their  nests.  Now,  it  often 
happens  that  the  available  places  for  such  nests  are  not 
everywhere  along  the  bank  of  the  creek,  but  that  short 
stretches,  here  and  there,  only  can  ba  utilized.  These 
are  fully  occupied,  the  nests  being  at  times  but  a  foot  or 
two  apart ;  and,  when  a  comprehensive  glance  can  be  had, 
they  look  like  a  row  of  rusty  pie- plates  just  beneath  the 
water.  In  these  nests  both  fishes  will  often  be,  and  yet 
scarcely  recognizable  when  seen  from  above.  All  the 
gorgeous  coloring  is  confined  to  their  sides  and  bellies; 
the  back,  being  a  dull  green,  blends  well  with  the  sur- 
roundings and  the  color  of  the  water.  This  fact  would 
afford  them  protection  from  such  enemies  as  might  be 
above  them,  though  there  are  none  such  now,  unless,  per- 
haps, a  stray  otter  or  mink  might  happen  to  be  near. 
Doubtless,  in  the  long  ago  of  primeval  forests  and  abun- 
dant wild-cats  and  fisher-martens,  this  green  color  was 
of  much  value  to  sunfish  as  a  protection  against  surprise ; 
but  that  time  has  long  passed,  and  now  their  enemies  are 
gone,  except  the  pin-hook  and  tow-string  anglers  of  recent 
times,  though  these  again  are  generally  too  bungling  to 


378  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

be  dangerous.  The  nests  are  usually  occupied  for  a  space 
of  four  weeks,  when  the  parent  fishes  relinquish  their 
cares,  and  leave  the  young  "sunnies,"  now  more  like 
flakes  of  jelly  than  bony  fishes,  to  shift  for  themselves. 

One  curious  feature  of  the  habits  of  sunfish,  while 
nesting,  is  worthy  a  moment's  notice.  I  have  mentioned 
that  often  many  nests  are  in  a  row  and  near  each  other. 
The  occupants  of  the  several  nests  do  not  molest  each 
other,  and  never  intrude  beyond  the  limits  of  their  own 
"  homes."  They  have  but  one  direction  open  to  them, 
and  this  is  to  the  deep  water  directly  in  front.  Into  this, 
when  they  leave  the  nest,  the  sunfish  dart  with  great  ra- 
pidity. Often  this  constant  going  and  coming  wears  a 
path  along  the  mud  and  through  the  weeds,  which  can  be 
readily  traced  for  some  distance.  The  return  to  the  nest 
is  as  rapid  and  direct  as  the  exit.  Each  fish,  wherever  it 
may  go,  has  some  point  which  is  recognized  as  the  termi- 
nus of  the  lane  leading  to  the  nest,  and,  having  found  this, 
it  speeds  up  the  narrow  pathway  with  incredible  velocity, 
and  stops  as  suddenly  just  at  or  in  the  nest.  Then  the 
other,  as  quickly  and  in  the  same  manner,  departs,  leav- 
ing the  nest  in  charge  of  its  mate. 

Here  we  have  evidence  of  the  "  sense  of  direction," 
which  is  very  remarkable.  There  is  usually  a  dense 
growth  of  pond-weed  or  splatter-dock  between  the  nest 
and  the  channel  or  deepest  water  of  the  creek  or  pond. 
How,  when  the  parent  fish  is  in  this  clear,  deep  water,  it 
can  tell  the  exact  position  of  its  nest,  and  swim  directly 
to  it,  is  a  mystery ;  yet  this  they  are  unquestionably  able 
to  do.  However  well  defined  the  pathway  or  lane  lead- 
ing from  the  nest  may  be,  it  necessarily  "  fades  out,"  as  it 
were,  as  the  deeper  water  is  n eared ;  but  it  would  seem 
as  though  there  were  some  landmark  that  the  fish  recog- 
nized. If  this  is  not  the  case,  and  it  is  difficult  to  believe, 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  379 

may  we  not  ascribe  to  them  the  possession  of  a  so-called 
"  sense  of  direction  "  working  independently  and  unerr- 
ingly, without  regard  to  any  features  of  the  surround- 
ings ?  Such  a  sense,  indeed,  the  sunfish  seems  to  possess. 
The  possession  of  a  sense  of  direction  is  also  shown  by 
such  experiments  as  the  following :  I  once  carefully  re- 
moved a  sunfish  from  its  nest,  and  carried  it  one  thou- 
sand feet  up  the  stream,  when  I  set  it  at  liberty.  Between 
the  nest  and  the  point  where  I  placed  the  fish  there  were 
two  abrupt  bends  in  the  creek,  so  that  it  formed  a  letter 
Z  between  the  points  mentioned.  I  hastened  back  to  the 
nest  :  but  the  fish  was  there  before  me.  I  then  took  a 
fish  from  an  adjoining  nest,  and  carried  it  nearly  one 
thousand  yards  down  the  stream.  In  this  case  there  were 
two  bends  in  the  stream,  and  it  was  also  partially  ob- 
structed by  old  abandoned  flood-gates.  I  hurried  back  to 
the  nest,  and  reached  it  only  three  minutes  before  the 
fish  returned.  I  have  since  made  many  similar  experi- 
ments, and  all  with  essentially  the  same  results. 

When  nesting,  the  fact  that  fishes  are  affectionate  can 
be  readily  proved ;  but  the  experiment  is  cruel,  and  I 
trust  will  not  be  tried.  It  is  merely  to  hook  one  of  the 
nesting  fish,  and,  when  dead  or  dying,  place  it  in  the 
nest.  I  tried  it  once,  and  will  certainly  never  repeat  it. 
The  evidences  of  grief  on  the  part  of  the  distressed  and 
bewildered  widowed  fish  were  truly  affecting. 

A  few  words  with  reference  to  this  fish  as  a  weather 
prophet.  The  old  men  of  the  neighborhood  frequently 
speak  of  them  in  this  connection,  and  undertake  to  fore- 
tell whether  the  coming  summer  will  be  wet  or  dry,  from 
the  fact  that  their  nests  are  sometimes  in  water  a  foot  in 
depth,  while  at  others  less  than  one  half  this  depth  cov- 
ers them.  These  wise  old  men  of  the  village  sagely 
shake  their  heads,  when  the  facts  are  stated,  and  remark, 


380  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

if  the  nests  are  comparatively  deep,  "  It  will  be  a  dry  sum- 
mer," and  vice  versa.  This  is  based  on  the  supposition 
that  in  dry  summers  the  evaporation  will  exceed  the 
rain-fall,  and  that  the  fish  place  their  nests  in  deep  water 
to  prevent  them  from  being  left  high  and  dry.  The  ab- 
surdity of  this  is  apparent.  The  nests  are  occupied  but 
for  a  portion  of  one  month,  and  what  the  summer  may 
be  can  in  np  wise  affect  them  ;  but  of  this  the  village 
sages  never  think.  The  truth  is,  the  same  spots  are  used 
year  after  year,  whether  the  water  be  high  or  low. 

In  those  of  our  shallow,  sluggish  waters  which  have 
an  indefinitely  deep,  muddy  bottom,  and  harbor  a  rank 
growth  of  aquatic  vegetation,  the  handsome,  silvery, 
black-banded  sunfish  is  a  common  species.  In  such  lo- 
calities, where  often  the  weeds  grow  so  luxuriantly  that  a 
scoop-net  can  not  be  drawn,  I  have  found  that  hundreds 
of  these  fishes  were  passing  what  I  think  must  be  a  most 
monotonous  existence.  In  some  places,  locomotion  must 
be  rather  a  scramble  among  the  water-weeds  than  a  com- 
fortable swim.  Still,  these  spots  have  their  advantages  ; 
for  the  stems  of  the  plants  harbor  myriads  of  minute 
forms  of  life,  and  these  constitute  a  never-failing  supply  of 
food  for  the  fishes,  as  may  be  proved  by  an  examination 
of  the  contents  of  their  stomachs,  and  by  a  study  of  their 
habits  in  an  aquarium,  where  these  same  forms  of  animal 
life  were  supplied. 

Recently  I  submitted  a  series  of  specimens  to  my 
friend,  Dr.  A.  C.  Stokes,  of  Trenton,  N.  J.,  who  kindly 
examined  the  contents  of  the  stomachs  of  these  species 
by  the  aid  of  the  microscope,  with  the  following  results : 

In  the  stomachs  of  a  dozen  or  more  adult  banded  sun- 
fish  he  found  Chironomus  larvse  very  numerous  ;  Cyclops 
quadricornis  numerous ;  Daphnia  sp.  numerous  ;  chiti- 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  381 

nous  parts  of  small  insects  present,  but  not  abundant ;  dia- 
toms, desmids,  and  fragments  of  algae,  probably  acci- 
dental; and  a  single  rliizopod  (Centropyxis  aculeata).  In 
very  young  fish  he  found  Chironomus  larvae  few,  and 
Cyclops  quadricornis  and  Daphnia  sp.  numerous. 

He  adds,  "  In  the  stomach  of  a  full-grown  fish  there 
were  from  seventy-live  to  one  hundred  Chironomus  larvae, 
which  seem  to  be  the  favorite  food."  This*shows  at  a 
glance  that  the  banded  sunfish  is  essentially  a  surface 
feeder,  and,  as  we  seldom  see  them  moving  about  in  the 
open  water  or  near  the  surface,  they  are  probably  noctur- 
nal in  their  habits.  In  an  aquarium,  however,  they  seem 
to  be  as  active  during  the  day  as  at  night,  although  averse 
to  exposure  to  direct  sunlight. 

As  a  fish  for  the  aquarium,  the  banded  sunfishes  are 
deservedly  popular,  and,  indeed,  they  are  better  known 
as  dwellers  in  such  narrow  quarters  than  as  a  prominent 
species  in  the  fauna  of  the  lower  Delaware  Yalley.  I  be- 
lieve they  are  not  found  above  tide-water  at  all.  I  have 
frequently  shown  these  fish  to  old  fishermen,  who  rarely 
acknowledge  that  they  have  ever  before  seen  them  ;  and 
this  fact  is  corroborative  of  what  I  had  long  supposed, 
that  these  fish  are  only  found  in  out-of-the-way  nooks 
and  corners,  where  game-fish  seldom  if  ever  come,  and 
that  hence  their  haunts  are  not  often  invaded.  In  fact, 
one  would  scarcely  expect  to  find  any  fish  in  some  of  the 
weed-grown  holes  in  the  meadows,  where,  in  truth,  scores 
of  banded  sunfish  are  quietly  taking  their  ease. 

Occasionally,  however,  I  have  seen  this  fish  wander 
into  quite  open  waters,  and  here  it  is  that  it  shows  to 
such  advantage,  when,  with  the  brilliant  black  dorsal  and 
pectoral  fins  spread,  it  moves  majestically  along. 

Although  so  small,  it  is  a  plucky  fish,  and  promptly 
resents  any  interference.  Being  a  feeble  swimmer,  it 


382  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

depends  for  defense  upon  the  sharp  spines  of  its  dorsal 
fins,  and  it  seems  to  know  that  when  these  are  erected  it 
is  quite  free  from  molestation.  Especially  angry  does  it 
become  when  a  great  lubberly  catfish  chances  to  wander 
near  by  and  -pokes  his  slimy  nose  into  its  haunts.  At 
once  the  plucky  sunfish  is  up  in  arms,  and  darts  at  the 
intruder  with  great  violence.  It  is  a  veritable  case  of  the 
king-bird  and  crow  over  again,  only  beneath  the  water, 
instead  of  in  the  air. 

I  am  still  in  the  dark  about  the  breeding-habits  of 
this  fish.  At  times  I  have  thought  that  it  scooped  out  a 
nest  in  the  sand,  as  the  common  "  sunny  "  does ;  but  I  am 
not  so  sure  about  it.  During  the  spring  of  1881  I  found 
females  of  this  species  heavy  with  immature  ova,  and  I 
am  now  of  the  opinion  that,  if  any  nest  is  made,  it  is  in 
the  mud,  among  the  lily-stems,  or  at  the  base  of  some 
projecting  root.  Certainly,  if  anywhere  in  open  water, 
I  should  have  found  them  before  this. 

A  puzzling  fact,  that  haunted  me  whenever  I  went 
fishing,  until  very  recently  (September,  1883),  was  that  I 
never  found  any  very  young  "  bandies,"  as  I  usually  call 
them.  I  had  often  scooped  up  scores  of  the  mud-loving 
Enneacanthi,  found  in  the  same  quarters,  but  with  never 
a  "  bandy  "  among  them.  Hoping  ever  for  better  things, 
I  continued  to  search  for  them,  and  at  last  success  crowned 
my  efforts.  Early  in  September  last  I  found  scores  of 
little  ones,  some  not  more  than  half  an  inch  in  length. 
It  is  safe  to  say,  therefore,  that  the  ova  are  deposited  in 
May  or  June.  Just  where,  remains  to  be  determined. 

Years  ago  I  stated  in  the  "  Naturalist "  that  the  banded 
sunfish  scooped  out  little  basins  in  the  sand,  and  therein 
deposited  their  ova  ;  but  do  they  ?  Upon  the  authority 
of  what  I  stated  in  1870,  it  has  been  repeatedly  assert- 
ed that  the  banded  sunfish  is  a  nest-builder ;  but  I  am 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  383 

forced  to  admit  that  my  own  observations  do  not  warrant 
me  in  going  further  than  saying  that  this  is  probably 
true.  Wherever  one  finds  the  banded  sunfish,  he  is  sure 
to  find  a  few  individuals  of  the  common  "  sunny,"  and, 
when  we  consider  the  fact  of  the  association  of  these 
species,  how  readily  might  it  happen  that  the  accidental 
proximity  of  a  banded  sunfish  to  a  nest  of  the  common 
species  should  lead  to  the  impression  that  the  nest  was 
the  possession  of  fish  seen  near  it !  I  was  possibly  misled 
in  this  matter  years  ago.  At  all  events,  I  am  not  posi- 
tive I  ever  saw  a  nest  of  the  banded  sunfish. 

A  very  constant  companion  of  the  preceding  is  a 
beautiful  sunfish  of  about  the  same  size,  but  very  differ- 
ently colored.  It  is  known  locally  as  the  "  spotted  sun- 
fish,"  from  the  blue  and  golden  dots  that  are  profusely 
sprinkled  over  the  male  fish.  It  has  been  given  a  vari- 
ety of  scientific  names,  and  that  which  rightfully  belongs 
to  it,  because  first  given,  has  been  generally  ignored. 

I  find  in  the  hand-book  that  there  are  two  of  these 
spotted  sunfish  allotted  to  the  Delaware,  which,  I  doubt 
not,  is  all  very  true  ;  but  it  is  not  always  easy  to  tell  which 
is  which,  if  we  follow  the  directions  of  the  manual.  One 
of  the  two  has  golden  spots,  and  one  blue  spots — so  it  is 
said  ;  but  when  I  put  one  of  them  in  a  glass,  I  find  the 
spots  are  blue  one  minute  and  golden  the  next,  and  so 
the  change  keeps  on.  Then  we  are  told  that  one  has 
cross  bars  of  black,  and  the  other  has  them  not ;  but  this 
is  only  true  in  part,  as  the  females  of  the  spotted  sun- 
fish  want  the  bars  and  spots,  and  the  males  have  them  : 
and  so  we  could  go  on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  If 
there  are  two  species  of  these  small  spotted  sun  fish,  then 
one  is  that  named  by  Professor  Baird  obesus,  the  other 
called  guttatus  by  Dr.  Morris  years  ago.  I  well  remember 
the  specimens  the  doctor  caught,  and  christened  as  above, 


384  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

and  these  are  the  same  that,  associated  with  the  banded 
sunfish,  are  so  common  in  all  the  weedy  portions  of  Wat- 
son's Creek. 

In  a  recent  number  of  "  Harper's  Magazine  "  (Decem- 
ber, 1883)  Mr.  C.  F.  Holder  speaks  of  this  sunfish  as 
lying  "  dormant  till  the  coming  spring."  This  does  not 
accord  with  my  more  recent  observations.  On  the  ap- 
proach of  cold  weather,  the  fish  that  I  have  studied  sim- 
ply withdrew  to  deeper  waters,  and,  wherever  there  is  a 
lively  spring  in  the  bed  of  the  creek,  there  these  fish 
congregated  in  great  numbers.  Like  the  larger  fishes  of 
the  same  creek,  they  find  open  water  somewhere,  and 
there  remain ;  and  nets  set  under  ice,  in  the  depths  of 
winter,  show  that  very  nearly  all  our  fishes  are  active. 
Even  the  delicate  cyprinoids  are  "  moving,"  for,  in  the 
stomachs  of  pike  caught  in  January,  I  have  found  re- 
mains of  "shiners"  of  several  species.  I  believe  the 
hibernation  of  sunfish  to  be  an  exceptional  occurrence, 
rather  than  a  rule. 

Like  the  preceding,  the  spotted  sunfish  is  strictly 
carnivorous,  but  does  not  feed  upon  the  same  forms  of 
minute  life.  This  is  shown  by  the  results  of  my  friend 
Dr.  Stokes's  careful  examination  of  the  stomach-contents 
of  a  series  of  specimens  submitted  to  him. 

The  examination  of  twelve  adult  specimens  of  spotted 
sunfish  resulted  as  follows  : 

In  every  case  the  stomach  was  empty,  but  the  intes- 
tine contained  tracheae,  eyes,  elytra,  heads  and  chitinous 
parts  of  small  aquatic  beetles.  These  were  very  numer- 
ous ;  also  Pisidium  sp.  occasional ;  several  small  univalve 
mollusks ;  a  few  Chironornus  larvae ;  occasionally  a  Daph- 
nia  and  Cyclops  ;  and  Gammarus  sp.  numerous.  In  the 
very  young  spotted  sunfish  examined,  there  were  found 
Pisidium  sp.  occasionally  ;  many  Daphnia  and  Chironomus 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  385 

larvoe ;  a  few  fragments  of  insects ;  many  Cyclops ;  a  few 
very  small  univalve  mollusks,  and  a  single  water-mite. 

Here  we  have  evidence  that  this  species  of  sunfish  is 
a  bottom  feeder,  and  resorts  to  the  mud  rather  than  else- 
where for  its  main  food-supply ;  but  not  always,  for, 
during  a  recent  ramble  along  Watson's  Creek,  I  no- 
ticed quite  a  commotion  in  the  shallow  water  near  shore, 
and,  on  approaching  the  spot,  I  discovered  that  three 
of  these  spotted  sunfish  had  attacked  a  crayfish  which 
had  just  cast  its  shell.  The  battle  lasted  but  for  a  mo- 
ment after  I  became  a  spectator.  One  by  one  the 
limbs  of  the  crustacean  were  torn  off,  and  portions  of 
them  devoured  by  the  fish  in  full  view  of  their  tortured 
victim. 

"When  I  see  such  sights  as  these — and  they  are  by  no 
means  uncommon — I  can  not  but  think  that  there  is  a 
screw  loose  in  nature ;  that  nothing  is  perfect,  and  ani- 
mal life  is  only  reaching  out  toward  perfection. 

In  1873  I  happened  to  catch  a  fine  specimen  of  the 
"  g°ggle~eye(l  perch,"  and  found,  on  inquiry,  that  it  was 
a  new  fish  in  the  Delaware,  according  to  the  systema- 
tists;  and  "oncommon,"  according  to  the  experienced 
fishermen  of  the  neighborhood.  I  showed  it  to  several 
old  "  shad-men,"  and  they  all  told  me  that  occasionally 
they  had  seen  them.  Since  then  I  have  seen  perhaps  a 
dozen  specimens,  all  from  the  river,  and  hence  I  conclude 
that  they  have  a  claim  to  a  place  in  the  fauna  of  the 
river  valley.  That  they  were  not  here  formerly  is  prob- 
able ;  but  now,  and  for  many  years,  there  has  been  a  prac- 
ticable route  open  to  them,  through  our  canal  system,  to 
reach  the  Delaware  from  either  northwestern  or  south- 
ern waters.  In  this  way,  most  likely,  they  have  managed 
to  come.  All  the  specimens  seen  were  adult,  and  this 
leads  me  to  expect  that  ultimately  they  will  become  quite 
17 


386  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

numerous.    They  are  worth  angling  for,  if  all  fight  as  did 
the  only  one  I  ever  caught. 

There  is  yet  another  fish  that  I  class,  for  convenience, 
with  the  sunfish,  simply  because  I  usually  find  them 
when  looking  for  "  sunnies,"  though  in  fact  it  belongs  to 
a  very  different  family.  It  is  the  "  pirate,"  or  spineless 
perch,  which,  by  the  way,  I  never  expect  to  find,  and 
which  I  certainly  never  have  found,  when  on  a  regular 
hunt  for  them.  That  they  are  always  in  the  deeper 
ditches  I  am  certain,  but  they  can  easily  dodge  a  scoop- 
net,  and  all  day  long  they  hide  in  such  inaccessible  nooks 
that  they  are  safe.  It  was  only  by  accident  that  I  ever 
have  bagged  them,  and  so,  with  a  light  heart,  I  make  a 
place  for  every  such  one  in  my  aquarium,  and  sit  down 
to  watch  how  the  ill-tempered  fellow  behaves  in  confine- 
ment. They  are  well  named  "  pirates,"  as  they  are  among 
minnows  what  shrikes  are  among  sparrows,  and  are  more 
pitiless  even  than  the  pike. 

Recently  I  find  the  correctness  of  this  view  questioned 
by  Professor  Forbes,  of  Illinois,  who  has  made  many 
exhaustive  studies  of  the  food  of  fishes.  He  says  my 
specimens  "  were  doubtless  forced  to  feed  so  largely  upon 
fishes  for  want  of  food  more  natural  to  them,  since,  in 
their  native  haunts,  fishes  make  but  a  small  percentage 
of  their  ordinary  food."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  while  my 
studies  of  the  habits  of  this  fish  were  largely  confined 
to  specimens  in  aquaria,  these  were  supplied  with  other 
food,  and  my  conclusions  were  verified  by  subsequent 
examinations  of  the  stomach-contents  of  many  speci- 
mens. I  have  frequently  found  them  with  a  partially 
digested  fish  projecting  from  their  jaws ;  and  fish-re- 
mains proved  to  be  fully  seventy-five  per  cent  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  stomachs  of  a  series  of  seven  adult  specimens 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  387 

taken  last  September  (1883),  and  carefully  examined  to 
determine  the  character  of  the  food. 

Professor  Forbes  further  states  that  the  "  intestine  of 
this  species  is  short  and  simple,"  and  overlooks  the  signifi- 
cant fact  that  it  has  a  row  of  a  dozen  or  more  pyloric  caeca, 
which  doubtless  compensate  for  the  want  of  length  of  the 
digestive  tract  proper. 

Without  questioning  the  correctness  of  my  friend's 
investigations  on  this  point,  I  am  quite  sure  that  the  can- 
nibalistic appetite  of  the  New  Jersey  pirate  perches  has 
not  been  overstated. 

As  a  result  of  many  long  studies  of  them,  in  aquaria, 
I  find  that  they  are  strictly  nocturnal  in  their  habits. 
Many  fish,  as  eels  and  catfish,  are  essentially  so,  but  in 
this  case  it  is  absolutely  so.  In  confinement  I  never 
knew  them  to  move  about  in  search  of  food,  although 
they  were  prompt  to  accept  it  if  placed  directly  before 
and  very  near  them.  One  large  specimen,  in  particular, 
which  I  kept  for  eleven  months,  remained  during  the  day 
under  a  little  arch  of  stones,  and  so  seldom  varied  its  posi- 
tion that  it  became  as  permanent  a  fixture  in  my  mind 
as  the  arch  itself.  I  would  scarcely  have  felt  more  sur- 
prise to  see  the  arch  change  its  place  than  to  have  seen 
any  voluntary  movement  on  the  part  of  the  pirate  during 
the  day ;  but,  on  the  approach  of  evening,  the  fish  began 
to  grow  restless  and  moved  slowly  to  and  fro,  but  not 
beyond  the  cover  of  the  arch.  Once  let  it  be  dark,  and 
the  restlessness  gave  way  to  a  disposition  to  roam  about, 
and  this  it  did  in  an  erratic,  nervous  manner.  The  result 
of  its  short  journeyings,  however,  was  invariably  the  capt- 
ure of  a  good-sized  minnow,  and  with  this  it  promptly 
returned  to  the  arch  and  resumed  its  favorite  position. 
Usually  it  captured  a  minnow  far  too  large  to  be  swal- 
lowed whole,  and  so,  with  the  tail  projecting  from  its 


388  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

jaws,  the  pirate  would  go  to  the  arch,  and  remain  perhaps 
all  the  next  day  with  its  mouth  distended  by  the  project- 
ing tail  of  the  minnow  it  had  swallowed. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  banded  sunfish,  I  am  not  posi- 
tive as  to  the  breeding-habits  of  this  fish.  In  the  "  Ten- 
foot  Ditch,"  in  my  neighbor's  mucky  meadow,  I  found 
early  in  June,  1860,  very  young  specimens,  which  were 
thought  to  be  but  three  or  four  weeks  old  at  most.  The 
water  here  was  clear,  with  a  swift  current,  and  the 
bottom  of  the  stream  was  completely  covered  with  pond- 
weeds  of  several  species.  Somewhere  near,  the  eggs 
must  have  been  laid  ;  but  where,  or  how  many,  is  a  mat- 
ter of  conjecture.  There  were  not  many  of  these  young 
fish. 

From  circumstances  connected  with  the  finding  of 
very  young  "  pirates  "  in  a  nameless  brook  flowing  into 
Cooper's  Creek,  Camden  County,  N.  J.,  and  later  of  find- 
ing very  many  associated  young  fish  in  the  Shabbaconk 
Creek,  I  was  led  to  believe  that  this  fish  made  a  nest 
like  that  of  the  common  sunfish,  and  often  appropri- 
ated the  nests  made  by  the  "  sunny."  So  sure  was  I 
of  this,  that  I  made  an  unqualified  assertion  to  that  effect 
in  the  "  Geology  of  New  Jersey,"  Appendix  E,  p.  808,  and 
since  then  in  "  The  Naturalist "  ;  but  of  late  years  I  have 
not  been  able  to  verify  this.  I  can,  however,  speak  very 
positively  of  the  fact  that  the  parent  fish  remain  with 
the  young  for  a  considerable  time,  apparently  to  guard 
them ;  or  was  it  to  devour  one  occasionally,  other  food 
being  scarce  ? 

In  speaking  of  the  nests  of  the  common  sunfish,  Mr. 
C.  F.  Holder,  in  the  article  I  have  already  quoted,  refers 
to  the  nesting  habits  of  the  "  pirate  "  as  follows : 

"  They  have,  however,  one  enemy  that  seems  to  defy 
them,  the  pirate  perch  (Aphrodederus  Sayanus),  which, 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  389 

like  the  cuckoo,  that  is  either  incapable  or  too  lazy  to 
build  a  nest  of  its  own,  often  deposits  its  eggs  in  that  of 
its  neighbor. 

"  The  perches  wait  until  the  suniish  complete  their 
homes,  when  they  evict  them  by  force  of  blows,  often 
only  after  a  sanguinary  struggle.  This  accomplished,  the 
victors,  male  and  female,  install  themselves,  and  the  eggs 
are  deposited  frequently  among  those  of  the  former  occu- 
pants, who  perhaps  are  avenged,  as  their  captors  guard 
their  nest  jealously,  protecting  the  young  sunfish  as  they 
come  out,  and  staying  by  them  until  they  are  about  half 
an  inch  in  length,  when  they  are  left  to  look  out  for 
themselves." 

Unfortunately,  this  statement  is  based  upon  my  own 
perhaps  too  hasty  conclusions,  and  may  not  be  wholly 
correct. 

Whenever  I  chance  to  walk  along  the  tide-water 
ditches  of  the  lower  meadows,  my  attention  is  sure  to 
be  called  to  the  greenish-gray  minnows  that  dart  by  in 
scores,  and  in  fact  are  only  noticeable  from  above  when 
seen  in  considerable  numbers  closely  associated.  They 
are  of  no  particular  tint  as  seen  in  the  water,  agreeing  in 
this  respect  with  the  sandy,  muddy  bottom  of  the  ditch, 
they  are  in.  To  test  this,  I  have  often  scattered  a  little 
school  of  them,  and  while  none  were  concealed  it  was 
only  with  great  difficulty  that  I  could  detect  individuals ; 
yet  probably  there  were  three  or  four  on  every  square 
foot  of  ground  examined.  This  indefinite  coloring  proves 
an  excellent  protection,  or  else  the  herons  must  have 
sharp  eyes,  for  these  birds  catch  as  many  fish  as  frogs,  I 
think.  These  minnows  are  not  the  little  shiners  that  are 
also  called  by  this  comprehensive  term,  but  are  the  blunt- 
headed,  square-jawed,  barred  little  fish  that  are  more  com- 
mon in  the  river  than  anywhere  else,  but  are  by  no  means 


390  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

confined  to   it.     They  are   known   scientifically  as   the 
Cyprinodonts,  or  toothed  minnows. 

I  have  gathered  four  well-marked  species,  but  detect- 
ed no  differences  in  their  habits.  They  are  all  social, 
carnivorous,  restless,  diurnal,  running-water  fishes,  and 
seem  to  have  no  other  duty  in  the  plan  of  creation  than 
to  feed  on  minute  mollusca  and  insect  larvae,  and  to  hold 
themselves  in  readiness  to  be  eaten  by  larger  fishes,  and 
by  the  king-fishers,  the  herons,  bitterns,  and  other  birds. 

One  of  the  four  species,  the  common  barred  minnow, 
is  of  a  more  restless  disposition  than  the  others,  and  wan- 
ders as  far  from  tide-water  as  it  is  possible  to  go.  I 
know  of  no  more  earnest  explorer  among  our  many  fishes. 
"Wherever  there  is  an  inch  of  moderately  clear  water, 
there  the  barred  minnow  will  be  found.  Only  perpen- 
dicular falls  of  a  foot  or  more  in  height,  or  constantly 
muddied  waters,  obstruct  their  course.  Ordinary  rapids, 
as  where  the  water  rushes  madly  over  or  about  large 
rocks,  do  not  prevent  their  onward  progress ;  and  often, 
early  in  the  spring,  I  have  seen  them  leap  several  inches 
up  a  fall  that  was  nearly  or  quite  perpendicular. 

In  general  appearance  quite  like  the  carnivorous  or 
toothed  minnows  just  mentioned,  is  an  abundant  species 
that  frequents  only  the  quiet  muddy  ditches,  mostly  be- 
yond the  reach  of  the  tides.  This  is  the  mud-minnow. 
It  is  a  small  fish,  seldom  being  found  of  a  greater  length 
than  three  inches ;  but  has  been  known  to  reach  nearly 
twice  that  size.  Such  large  specimens,  however,  are  ex- 
ceedingly rare. 

In  calling  this  fish  the  mud-minnow,  it  must  not  be 
supposed  for  a  moment  that  they  are  sluggish,  slow- 
moving  creatures.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  as  active  as 
other  minnows,  and,  being  possessed  of  greater  strength, 
can  pass  through  soft  mud  with  as  much  ease  as  other 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  391 

fishes  do  through  the  clear  waters.  Zadoc  Thompson,  in 
his  "  History  of  Vermont,"  speaks  of  them  as  very  tena- 
cious of  life,  and  says  they  "can  live  longer  than  most 
fishes  without  water.  During  droughts,  as  the  waters  sub- 
side and  recede  from  the  coves,  they  have  the  power  by 
a  springing  motion  of  transporting  themselves  from  one 
little  puddle  to  another.  They  also  have  the  power  of 
partially  burying  themselves  and  living  in  the  mud  and 
among  the  moist  grass-roots,  after  the  other  small  fishes 
associated  with  them  are  all  dead  from  the  want  of  water. 
In  these  situations  vast  numbers  of  them  are  devoured 
by  birds,  musk-rats,  and  foxes."  This  coincides  with  my 
own  observations,  except  that,  unfortunately,  we  have  no 
foxes  to  devour  the  superabundant  minnows. 

One  feature  of  peculiar  interest  in  this  fish  is  the 
great  variation  of  color.  While  nearly  all  our  dark-hued 
fishes  differ  in  the  depth  of  coloring,  this  variation  is 
either  permanent  or  it  is  in  a  measure  dependent  upon 
the  season,  as  when  colors  are  heightened  by  excessive 
vitality  during  the  breeding-season  ;  but  in  this  case  it  is 
wholly  different.  Specimens  kept  in  an  aquarium,  where 
the  surroundings  closely  imitated  their  natural  haunts, 
never  exhibited  uniform  coloring.  In  many  females  the 
body  below  the  lateral  line  was  often  glossy  black,  re- 
lieved by  minute  silvery  dots  ;  but  frequently  this  color 
faded  to  the  general  hue  of  the  back,  which  is  a  dull,  green- 
ish brown,  in  the  larger  specimens  relieved  by  darker 
vertical  bands.  The  most  marked  variation  was  in  some 
of  the  smaller  specimens,  which  were  almost  silvery  in 
color  below  the  lateral  line,  and  pale,  greenish  gray  above. 
The  dark  vertical  band  at  the  base  of  the  tail  is  always 
present.  No  published  description  of  the  color  will  ap- 
ply to  one  in  a  hundred  living  specimens. 

During  the  winter  of  1873-'T4:  I  had  unusually  fa- 


392  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

vorable  opportunities  of  studying  this  minnow  at  this 
time  of  year.  In  December,  while  the  weather  was  cool 
rather  than  cold,  with  but  little  ice,  I  found  that  hun- 
dreds of  these  fish  were  being  thrown  out  with  the  mud 
then  being  taken  from  the  ditches  in  the  meadows. 
Learning  this,  I  carefully  examined  the  mud  thrown 
out,  to  determine  as  far  as  possible  the  condition  of  these 
fishes.  They  were,  when  taken  from  the  mud,  motion- 
less, stiff,  and  apparently  frozen,  though  they  were  not 
brittle,  and  an  attempt  to  bend  them  resulted  in  prompt 
resistance,  or  at  least  in  voluntary  muscular  movements. 
Specimens  thus  roughly  handled  were,  in  most  instances, 
injured  by  being  thus  bent,  even  when  this  curvation  was 
not  in  excess  of  what  they  can  and  readily  do  assume  in 
their  normal  condition. 

On  placing  specimens  in  clear  water  of  the  tempera- 
ture of  60°  Fahr.,  they  did  not  fully  revive  until  after 
lying  on  their  sides  at  the  bottom  of  the  vessel  for  from 
twenty-five  to  forty  minutes,  and  then  they  seemed  to 
be  permanently  injured  by  the  sudden  change ;  but  when 
placed,  with  the  mud  still  adhering  to  them,  in  water  at 
40°  Fahr.,  and  this  was  gradually  warmed  by  the  heat  of 
the  room  in  which  the  vessel  stood,  the  minnows  would 
become  wholly  themselves  again  in  from  ten  to  fifteen 
minutes,  and  swim  about  in  full  vigor  as  the  mud  slowly 
loosened  from  them  and  settled  to  the  bottom  of  the 
vessel. 

The  mud  in  which  these  minnows  were  hibernating, 
when  taken  from  the  bottom  of  the  ditch,  was  about  of 
the  consistence  of  cheese,  though,  of  course,  it  was  less 
firm  when  the  fish  entered  it,  weeks  before.  As  far  as 
I  was  able  to  determine,  the  fish  had  burrowed  tail-fore- 
most to  a  depth  of  from  four  to  nine  inches.  In  every 
instance  I  am  sure  the  tail  was  deeper  in  the  mud  than 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  393 

the  head,  the  position  varying  from  nearly  horizontal  to 
almost  or  quite  perpendicular. 

Pursuing  the  investigation  somewhat  further,  I  found 
that  when  these  minnows  had  gone  into  winter-quarters 
in  water  from  three  to  five  feet  deep,  the  hibernating 
slumber  was  not  as  profound ;  and  when  they  were  placed 
in  clear  water,  at  a  temperature  of  40°  Fahr.,  they  almost 
immediately  swam  about,  slowly  at  first,  but  with  steadily 
increasing  activity,  and  in  from  three  to  five  minutes 
they  were  in  full  possession  of  all  their  locomotive  pow- 
ers, and  assumed  the  statue-like  positions  common  to 
them  in  summer,  when  for  many  minutes  together  they 
will  remain  immovable  until  an  opportunity  is  offered  to 
capture  an  insect  or  some  minute  crustacean.  It  should 
be  here  mentioned  that  the  water  in  the  ditches  from 
which  I  gathered  my  first  specimens  varied  from  nine  to 
fifteen  inches  in  depth,  and  was  coated  with  ice  one  inch 
thick. 

During  February,  the  weather  being  mild  and  spring- 
like— frogs  singing  at  midday — I  watched  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  these  tish,  and  saw  them  first  on  Sunday,  the 
loth.  A  week  later,  Monday,  the  23d,  there  were  but 
few  specimens  in  the  muddy  ditches,  but  a  vast  number 
of  females,  heavy  with  masses  of  ova,  were  found  in  the 
swift,  clear  waters  of  the  hill-side  brooks. 

On  the  25th  there  was  a  violent  snow-storm,  with 
cold  northeast  winds,  but  this  did  not  deter  the  onward 
movement  of  the  minnows.  Of  the  specimens  taken 
from  the  rivulets  at  this  time,  none  were  males,  and  it 
seems  probable,  although  I  could  not  ascertain  the  truth, 
that  the  male  fish  follow  the  females,  and,  seeking  out 
the  deposited  ova,  fertilize  them;  or  the  females  wait 
until  the  arrival  of  the  males  before  depositing  their 
eggs.  While  as  yet  this  is  largely  conjecture  on  my  part, 


394:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

I  have  not  in  subsequent  observations  seen  anything  to 
contradict  it.  Certainly  the  females  precede  the  male 
fish  to  the  spawning-grounds.  It  is  seen,  therefore,  that 
while  these  fish  at  the  commencement  of  winter  seek 
shelter  from  the  cold  by  burrowing  deeply  in  the  mud, 
at  the  approach  of  spring  they  revive  synchronously 
with  the  maturing  of  the  ova  of  the  female  and  the  milt 
of  the  male,  and,  having  thus  recovered  their  wonted  ac- 
tivity (during  February  and  March),  no  severity  of  the 
weather  appears  to  deter  them  from  seeking  out  excep- 
tionally cold  waters  for  their  spawning-grounds.  This 
was  shown  by  the  snow-storm  referred  to,  after  which  the 
female  minnows  were  still  found  passing  up  the  brooks, 
forcing  their  way  up  miniature  cascades  with  all  the  agil- 
ity of  salmon,  leaping  from  eddy  to  eddy,  seeking  out  the 
most  distant  points  from  their  muddy  summer  haunts ; 
and  here,  where  but  little  water  flowed,  and  with  the 
long  grass  and  twigs  projecting  from  it  thickly  coated 
with  crystal  ice  and  glistening  frost,  I  found  the  plainly 
colored  mud-minnows  lying  half  hidden  among  the  peb- 
bles and  sandy  ridges  of  the  brook's  bed. 

Subsequent  studies  of  this  fish  have  resulted  in  not- 
ing certain  peculiarities  in  its  movements  which  may 
have  some  bearing  upon  the  subject  of  evolution.  On 
observing  the  movements  of  some  remarkably  large  spec- 
imens in  an  aquarium,  I  was  forcibly  struck  with  the 
peculiar  use  they  made  of  their  pectoral  fins.  These 
fins  in  most  fish  are  kept  parallel,  or  nearly  so,  with  the 
body,  and  they  are  usually  thin,  transparent,  and  with 
very  flexible  rays.  These  conditions,  which  vary  in  the 
thousands  of  species  of  fishes,  do  not  obtain  in  the  in- 
stance of  the  mud-minnows.  The  membrane  is  dense, 
the  rays  numerous  and  strong,  and  the  fin  is  often  held 
at  a  right  angle  with  the  body  when  the  fish  is  in  a  hori- 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  395 

zontal  position,  and  at  more  or  less  of  an  angle  in  what- 
ever position  may  be  assumed.  The  ventral  fins,  like- 
wise stiff  and  strongly  rayed,  are  not  much  used  when 
the  fish  is  swimming,  bnt  as  soon  as  the  fish  comes  to  a 
rest  they  are  spread  out,  and,  with  the  pectoral  fins  now 
motionless  and  stiff,  they  form  four  "  legs  "  that  support 
the  body,  just  as  is  the  case  with  a  salamander.  In- 
deed, the  likeness  goes  further,  and  the  body  is  frequent- 
ly curved  when  at  rest,  and  remains  so,  the  head  being 
turned  to  the  right  or  left,  and  the  tail  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection. No  one  can  fail  to  see  the  salarnandrine  ap- 
pearance of  this  fish  when  it  assumes  such  a  position. 

Now,  if  we  follow  up  the  habits  of  this  fish,  are  there 
any  other  un-tish-like  habits  to  be  seen?  Knowing  its 
predilection  for  thick  and  muddy  waters,  its  hibernating, 
and  ability  to  withstand  prolonged  exposure  to  the  atmos- 
phere, as  already  described,  indications  of  habits  suggest- 
ive of  a  semi-aquatic  life  may  reasonably  be  looked  for. 
The  one  peculiarity,  other  than  those  mentioned,  that  I 
have  noticed,  is  this  :  these  fish,  as  I  have  mentioned,  may 
often  be  seen  resting  on  the  tips  of  the  pectoral  and  ven- 
tral fins.  On  disturbing  them,  occasionally,  instead  of 
swimming,  especially  if  the  water  is  very  shallow,  they 
make  a  forward  movement,  by  giving  these  fins  a  leg-like 

.motion,  indicated  by  leaving  faint  traces,  thus:      (/(/ 

upon  the  sand.  I  first  noticed  this  in  observing  speci- 
mens kept  in  a  large  aquarium,  and  since  then  have  seen 
these  same  fin-marks  made  by  the  minnows  in  the  mud 
in  the  bottoms  of  the  meadow-ditches.  It  is  often  a  vol- 
untary movement  on  their  part,  I  am  now  convinced, 
and  not  made  only  when  disturbed.  In  fact,  if  suddenly 
disturbed,  they  generally  dart  off  by  swimming  only,  and 
bury  themselves,  tail-foremost,  in  the  mud. 


396  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Taking  now  into  consideration  this  habit,  together 
with  that  of  giving  the  body  a  salamandrine  position, 
often  maintained  for  several  minutes,  as  well  as  that  of 
burrowing  in  the  mud,  and  also  its  capacity  to  withstand 
exposure  to  the  atmosphere  for  a  long  time,  is  not  the 
suggestion  reasonable  that  a  radical  change  may  ulti- 
mately take  place,  and  a  semi-aquatic  animal,  allied  at 
least  in  habits  to  the  salamanders,  be  the  result? 

The  mud -minnow  is  carnivorous.  When  kept  in 
aquaria  they  will  devour  any  reasonable  number  of  flies 
offered  them,  and  undertake,  without  hesitation,  to  swal- 
low earth-worms,  as  large  as  themselves.  Once  they  take 
hold  of  a  worm,  they  never  let  go,  but  at  least  secure  that 
portion  of  the  animal  between  their  jaws.  Not  only 
do  they  allow  themselves  to  be  fed,  by  taking  food  di- 
rectly from  one's  hand,  but  they  will  leap  above  the 
water  to  seize  any  tempting  morsel  held  above  them. 
Learning  this  from  observations  of  many  specimens  kept 
in  aquaria,  I  was  led  to  suppose  that  the  same  occurred 
habitually  in  their  native  haunts,  and  this  is  true.  Unlike 
any  other  of  our  fishes,  the  mud-minnow  will  leap  twice 
and  thrice  its  length  above  the  surface  of  the  water  to 
seize  a  fly  or  beetle  that  happens  to  rest  upon  some  over- 
hanging blade  of  grass  or  twig.  So  often,  of  recent 
years,  have  I  seen  this,  while  floating  quietly  along  on 
the  watch,  that  I  am  surprised  that  Professor  Forbes,  in 
speaking  of  the  food  of  these  fishes,  should  state  that  in- 
sects amount  to  but  "  fourteen  per  cent,  chiefly  undeter- 
mined larvae,"  and  further  that  "  no  terrestrial  forms  were 
recognized."  While  it  is  scarcely  probable  that  a  fish  with 
so  good  an  appetite  could  largely  depend  upon  terrestrial 
insects  for  its  food-supply,  yet  it  is  evident,  both  from 
aquaria  studies  and  out-door  observations,  that  these  do 
constitute  a  considerable  percentage  of  its  food.  With 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  397 

this  species,  as  with  many  others  which  by  their  denti- 
tion show  that  they  are  carnivorous,  it  is  probable  that 
much  of  the  vegetable  matter  found  in  their  stomachs 
has  not  been  taken  voluntarily,  but  unavoidably;  the 
fish  swallowing  portions  of  a  plant  often  for  the  sake  of 
the  animal  life  that  was  clinging  to  it. 

In  the  manual  to  which  I  so  frequently  have  occasion 
to  refer,  I  find  no  direct  reference  to  a  fish  that  is  as 
much  a  fresh-water  species  as  our  shad  or  herring.  Why 
it  has  been  overlooked  I  can  not  understand,  as  I  have 
seldom  wandered  about  the  river  during  the  summer 
months  without  seeing  numbers  of  this  "  exclusively  ma- 
rine "  species.  I  refer  to  the  silver  gar  or  "  bill-fish." 
Years  ago  I  called  attention  to  the  great  numbers  of  these 
fishes  that  are  often  caught  in  the  canal,  when  the  water 
is  drawn  off,  in  December,  "  at  the  close  of  navigation." 
Particularly  during  the  month  of  August  are  these  fishes 
plentiful  in  the  river,  and  when  sporting  in  company 
about  a  floating  leaf  or  twig,  darting  over  it  and  each 
other  with  a  great  variety  of  graceful  movements,  they 
present  a  most  interesting  sight. 

They  do  not  appear  to  leave  the  salt  water  at  any 
particular  time  of  the  year,  but  "whenever  the  notion 
takes  them  "  they  wander  up  the  river  and  thence  into 
the  tributary  creeks.  Once  here,  they  seem  in  no  hurry 
to  return,  as  my  note-books  show  them  to  have  been  seen 
in  Crosswicks  Creek  in  every  month  of  the  year. 

As  a  fresh-water  fish,  the  silver  gar  reminds  me 
strongly  of  the  pike.  It  preys  upon  the  small  minnows 
in  the  same  manner ;  and  at  times  it  will  remain  motion- 
less near  the  surface  of  the  water,  just  beneath  the  spread- 
ing leaves  of  the  splatter-docks.  Unlike  the  pike,  how- 
ever, it  is  somewhat  sociable  and  full  of  play.  Often  a 


398  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

half-dozen  of  them  will  chase  each  other  with  great  ani- 
mation, turning  round  and  round  in  miniature  circles. 
A  curious  feature  of  these  gambols  is  the  excessive  curva- 
ture given  to  the  body  at  such  times.  The  fish  will  often 
describe  a  circle,  with  its  body  almost  in  a  similar  posi- 
tion. Then,  quickly  unbending,  the  circle  will  be  again 
described,  but  reversed,  the  body  being  bent  in  the  op- 
posite direction. 

It  is  not  only  the  adult  fish  that  come  into  the  fresh 
waters  of  the  river  and  the  tributary  creeks.  I  have 
often  seen  them,  less  than  six  inches  in  length,  far  up 
Crosswicks  Creek,  where  the  water  was  rapid,  shallow, 
and  very  cold. 

On  questioning  the  more  experienced  fishermen,  I 
find  that  a  few  of  these  silver  gars  are  caught  every  year 
during  the  shad-season,  but  that  only  in  August  are  they 
ever  very  abundant.  Furthermore,  this  fact  has  been  so 
frequently  noted,  that  a  local  name,  u  harvest-pike,"  is  in 
use  in  this  neighborhood,  based  upon  it. 

De  Kay  does  not  appear  to  have  known  that  this  fish 
enters  our  rivers.  At  least,  he  refers  to  it  only  as  a 
"  coast "  species.  Nevertheless,  the  fish  is  frequently 
found  in  the  Hudson,  as  far  from  the  coast  as  Albany. 
De  Kay  further  says,  "  It  is  highly  prized  by  epicures." 
In  this  neighborhood,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  supposed  to 
be  poisonous.  That  it  is  not,  I  know  to  be  true ;  but  how 
far  it  is  desirable  as  a  food-fish  I  do  not  know  from  ex- 
perience. They  are  too  pretty  to  catch,  and  please  me  so 
much,  as  I  watch  them  "  at  home,"  that  I  have  no  desire 
to  drag  them  to  my  domicile  to  see  how  they  taste. 

Skipping  the  shad,  for  the  world  knows  enough  of  it 
already,  there  are  a  few  words  to  be  said  of  another  of 
the  herring  tribe  that  has  become  land-locked  in  this 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  399 

neighborhood.  This  fact  has  made  them  interesting ;  and 
it  is  well  that  they  should  find  favor  in  some  way.  As 
an  article  of  food  they  are  absolutely  valueless,  or  worse, 
for  the  bones  are  of  such  size,  strength,  and  confused  ar- 
rangement, that  it  is  a  foolhardy  act  to  try  to  eat  one  of 
these  fishes.  I  speak  from  experience. 

Not  very  far  from  the  house  is  a  quiet,  maple-shaded 
pond,  where,  summer  long,  the  deep-voiced  bull-frog 
sounds  his  doleful  ditty,  and  the  sprightlier  swamp-frogs 
on  the  grassy  shores,  and  bell-tongued  Hylas  on  the 
drooping  branches  of  the  overhanging  trees,  wake  the 
dull  echoes  with  a  livelier  song.  Here,  out  of  the  world, 
as  it  were,  in  green  and  sluggish  waters  that  tempt  no 
seeker  for  romantic  scenes,  there  roams  in  listless  mood 
this  great,  lazy,  leaden-colored  fish  that  denies,  in  its 
habits,  any  kinship  to  the  great  herring  family  to  which 
it  belongs. 

In  this  pond,  for  nearly  thirty  years,  these  landlocked 
herring  have  lived  and  moved  and  had  their  being,  sub- 
sisting on  the  myriads  of  small  shells  that  they  crush  to 
atoms  in  their  dense,  muscular  stomachs,  the  possession  of 
which  has  given  them  their  common  name  of  the  gizzard- 
shad. 

This  herring  is  common  along  our  coast,  and,  entering 
the  river  early  in  the  spring,  wanders  as  far  inland  as 
do  any  of  its  tribe ;  but,  unlike  the  others,  it  often  gets 
into  ponds  which  have  an  outlet  to  the  river  when  the 
spring  freshets  occur,  but  which  are  shut  off  from  the 
main  stream  when  the  waters  sink  to  their  ordinary 
level.  In  this  way  the  gizzard-shad  become  landlocked, 
and  under  these  circumstances  they  thrive  admirably. 
Whether,  in  the  pond  to  which  I  have  referred,  they  corne 
and  go  with  every  freshet,  I  can  not  tell,  though  I  doubt 
it.  Some,  at  least,  that  are  in  the  pond  have  been  there 


400  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

for  several  years ;  and  many,  for  aught  I  know  to  the 
contrary,  have  been  born  and  bred  there. 

These  landlocked  specimens  are  of  interest  as  show- 
ing how  readily  an  altered  environment  causes  a  decided 
alteration  in  color,  and  probably  also  in  their  anatomical 
structure.  Comparison  of  these  fish  taken  from  the 
"maple-pond,"  many  of  which  are  descendants  of  the 
original  fish  that  were  landlocked  in  1857,  with  those 
from  the  river,  show  them  to  be  wholly  different  in  color, 
and,  more  strangely  still,  their  stomachs  are  certainly  less 
muscular.  I  have  examined  a  great  many  from  this 
pond,  supposed  to  have  been  hatched  there,  and  at  the 
time  were  from  two  to  three  years  old,  and  there  was 
certainly  a  smaller  "  gizzard "  than  in  specimens  of  the 
same  size  taken  from  the  river,  and  which  had  come  but 
very  recently  from  the  sea,  It  is  at  least  natural  to  specu- 
late upon  the  probability  of  this  herring  in  time  losing 
the  muscular  stomach,  as  a  consequence  of  not  requiring 
such  an  organ  for  the  digestion  of  the  food  that  land- 
locked localities  offer. 

Other  fish  feed  upon  the  same  mollusks  and  have  no 
such  convenient  gizzards,  as,  for  instance,  the  perch  and 
chub ;  but,  then,  the  one  has  teeth  in  its  jaws,  arid  the 
other  stout  pharyngeal  teeth  that  are  admirably  adapted 
to  crushing.  Do  these  take  the  place  of  the  gizzard  in 
the  landlocked  herring  ?  If  so,  the  need  of  it  is  apparent, 
and  it  will  not  wholly  disappear,  unless  there  is  an  entire 
change  in  the  food.  Still,  there  is  a  difference,  in  this 
respect,  between  these  fish  as  found  on  the  coast,  and 
those  that  for  several  generations  have  been  confined  to 
small  bodies  of  fresh  water. 

This  landlocked  herring  is  not  always  a  sluggish  fish, 
as  I  have  seen  it,  in  April,  as  full  of  life  as  is  the  most 
restless  minnow.  It  seemed  as  though  they  had  caught 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  401 

the  full  meaning  of  the  warblers'  merry  notes,  and  were 
inspired  by  the  sight  of  the  crimson  flashes  of  light  that 
glance  upon  the  water  as  the  mad-cap  oriole  in  his  nup- 
tial dress  rushes  hither  and  yon  among  the  overarching 
trees.  Indeed,  at  this  time,  the  dull,  leaden  tints  of  this 
fish  become  a  glistening  blue,  and  bands  of  sparkling  sil- 
ver deck  its  ashy  sides.  No  water  seems  too  cold  or 
too  shallow  for  them.  They  dart  like  pickerel  up  the 
tiny  spring-brooks  that  feed  the  pond,  and  skip  and  dance 
about  the  deeper  water  as  though  too  joyful  to  contain 
themselves.  From  the  muddy  depths  they  rise  to  the 
surface,  and,  throwing  themselves  upon  their  sides,  leap 
above  the  water,  as  though  challenging  the  birds  to  match 
their  brilliant  colors.  For  a  few  days,  their  excess  of 
action  is  kept  up,  and  then  it  ends,  as  all  such  manoeu- 
vres ever  do,  in  a  profound  reaction,  when  their  hum- 
drum existence  returns  ;  and  so  quietly  do  they  keep 
themselves  throughout  the  summer,  that  their  existence 
would  not  be  suspected  by  the  casual  observer. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

BRIEF    NOTES    ON    FISHES. (CONCLUDED.) 

CONSIDERED  as  a  group,  there  are  no  fishes  so  attract- 
ive to  me  as  the  "  shiners."  I  do  not  like  to  separate 
them,  and  call  one  a  chub,  another  a  dace,  and  a  third  a 
minnow.  This  savors  too  much  of  later  anatomical  stud- 
ies. My  first  attempt  at  field-notes  reads  thus  :  "  Walked 
along  the  creek  and  saw  lots  of  shiners  "  ;  and  my  latest 
rambles  by  the  same  stream  can  be  no  more  comprehen- 
sively described.  The  "  lots  of  shiners  "  still  are  there, 
and  I  only  wish  I  dared  sit  under  the  old  chestnut-trees, 
as  I  could  once,  and  catch  these  same  shiners  with  a  pin- 
hook.  Now,  if  I  go  a-fishing  at  all,  it  must  be  with 
"  boughten  "  tackle  and  a  basket,  and  only  bass  or  pike 
must  be  angled  for.  This  is  called  sport,  but  the  fun  of 
pin-hook  and  tow-string  days  is  wanting.  Now  I  can 
only  gaze  wistfully  at  these  same  shiners,  and  wish  I  was 
a  boy. 

This  class  of  fishes,  known  scientifically  as  cyprinoids, 
are  readily  recognized  as  the  roach,  dace,  chub,  and  min- 
now of  our  streams.  There  is  a  strong  family  likeness 
running  through  the  class,  and  a  general  silvery  coloring 
which  has  given  rise  to  the  comprehensive  term  "  shin- 
ers." 

I  find  that  there  are  fourteen  species  in  the  creeks  and 
river  at  this  place.  At  least,  following  the  text-books, 
this  is  true ;  but  I  have  found  others  which  are  hard  to 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  403 

determine,  according  to  the  descriptions  given  in  the 
books ;  but  as  these  lists  are  made  up  from  a  distorted, 
faded  mass  of  alcoholic  specimens,  the  probabilities  are, 
that  those  who  profess  to  know  the  most  about  these  fish, 
still  fall  short  of  the  whole  truth. 

Foremost  among  these  cyprinoids,  the  shiner  par 
excellence  is  the  roach.  It  seldom  happens  that  I  look 
into  any  ditch,  even,  and  fail  to  see  a  dozen  or  more  of 
them  lazily  drifting  about.  They  are  eminently  social, 
and  are  often  found  in  enormous  schools ;  but,  unlike 
herds  of  cattle,  droves  of  horses,  or  flocks  of  geese,  the 
roach  have  no  leaders.  The  danger  that  affrights  one, 
influences  all  alike,  and  as  one  body  away  they  dart,  the 
moment  a  threatening  shadow  clouds  the  surface  of  the 
stream.  To  watch  them,  being  yourself  in  full  view,  is  a 
profitless  undertaking.  To  follow  them,  yourself  unseen, 
is  full  of  amusement  and  instruction.  At  such  times  it 
may  be  possible  to  get  an  inner  view,  and  so  to  determine 
in  a  vague  way  how  much  intelligence  flits  through  their 
simple  brains,  although  I  must  confess  that  the  undertak- 
ing often  is  almost  hopeless  so  far  as  the  roach  is  con- 
cerned. Although  watched  for  hours,  they  seemed  as 
little  like  living  creatures  as  the  floating  twigs  that  drift- 
ed with  them.  This  was  due,  however,  to  two  important 
facts  :  they  were  neither  hungry,  nor  were  they  oppressed 
by  enemies.  Let  either  of  these  conditions  be  changed, 
and  their  manner  changes  at  once.  When  food  is  dis- 
covered, it  seems  as  if  each  individual  roach  of  the  school 
saw  the  coveted  morsel  at  the  same  time,  and  a  chase 
commences  that  is,  at  least,  remarkable  for  the  machine- 
like  uniformity  in  time  and  motion  with  which  they  all 
rush  forward  to  seize  it.  I  have  tested  this  frequently 
in  this  way :  Going  a  short  distance  above  the  foremost 
of  the  school  of  roach,  which  always  heads  up-stream, 


404:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

and  darts  down  when  frightened,  I  would  throw  a  grass- 
hopper into  the  water.  In  an  instant,  the  nearest  roach 
would  dart  toward  it,  and  usually  seize  it ;  but  at  the  same 
time  the  hindmost  roach  would  rush  forward  witli  equal 
promptness,  although,  of  course,  it  could  not  have  seen 
the  grasshopper,  and  knew  not  why  it  darted  forward, 
except  for  the  reason  that  it  felt  the  necessity  of  doing 
precisely  as  its  neighbors.  Then  I  would  change  my  tac- 
tics, and  throw  a  grasshopper  into  the  middle  of  the  school. 
In  such  a  case,  the  nearest  ahead  of  the  insect  would 
turn  about,  though  they  were  seldom  in  time  to  catch  it, 
and  the  fishes  farthest  ahead  would  likewise  all  turn 
about,  apparently  for  no  other  reason  than  because  those 
behind  them  did  so.  They  could  not  have  known  the 
primary  cause  of  the  change  of  position  of  certain  of  their 
fellows,  nor  could  there  have  been  any  hope  of  seizing 
the  food,  as  that  always  fell  to  the  fish  nearest  to  whose 
mouth  it  dropped.  Then,  in  a  third  manner,  I  would 
test  the  school  by  throwing  a  grasshopper  some  distance 
behind  the  last  of  the  fishes.  The  struggles  of  the  insect 
upon  the  surface  would  attract  the  hindmost  roach  in  a 
moment,  and  the  fish  would  reverse  its  position.  Quite 
as  promptly,  the  foremost  fish  would  turn  about  in  like 
manner.  It  was  evident,  therefrom,  that  these  fish  are  so 
intimately  associated  as  to  act  promptly  as  one  body. 
"What  purpose  does  it  serve  ?  So  far  as  a  food-supply  is 
concerned,  it  is  disadvantageous,  as  the  roach  are  carnivo- 
rous, and  no  such  abundance  of  insect  or  other  animal 
life  is  met  with  as  to  supply  each  member  of  a  school 
of  two  or  three  hundred  individuals.  This  social  instinct 
would  seem  to  have  arisen  as  a  means  of  protection.  If 
so,  I  am  "  at  sea  "  as  to  what  enemies  they  elude  by  as- 
sociation. At  present,  the  perch  and  pike  prey  upon 
them,  and  the  former  follows  the  schools  until  surfeited 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  405 

with  both  food  and  slaughter ;  the  latter  lies  in  wait  and 
seizes  the  first  to  come  within  easy  reach.  In  these  cases, 
the  social  instinct  works  them  no  good.  Can  it  be  that 
each  individual,  knowing  the  danger  to  which  it  is  ex- 
posed, seeks  the  company  of  others,  feeling  that  thereby 
its  own  safety  is  increased  ?  This  is  crediting  them  with 
intelligence  beyond  warrantable  limits,  perhaps,  and  as- 
suming that  they  live  their  lives  in  a  state  of  perpetual 
fear.  Imperfect  as  is  creation,  it  is  hard  to  believe  that 
any  creatures  are  so  unfortunately  situated  as  this  implies. 
Nevertheless,  their  actions,  at  times,  are  only  explicable 
upon  such  an  assumption. 

The  roach  is  an  example  of  how  far  coloration  may 
vary  among  fishes  of  the  same  species,  and  therefore  how 
small  reliance  can  be  placed  upon  it  in  determining  a 
"  species."  Years  ago,  De  Kay  described  as  not  only  dis- 
tinct species,  but  as  belonging  to  different  genera,  indi- 
viduals of  this  cyprinoid  received  from  different  locali- 
ties, and  presenting  marked  variation  of  color  and  some 
minor  differences  of  form.  In  rambling  about  this  neigh- 
borhood I  have  found  a  great  many  roach  in  the  most 
widely  differing  localities.  I  have  found  them  in  clear, 
cold,  rapid  waters,  that  would  charm  a  trout,  and  in  green- 
coated  pools  of  such  warm  and  thick  waters  that  even 
frogs  declined  to  enter  them.  In  the  former  case,  the 
fish  were  bright,  silvery,  and  sleek,  and  darted  to  and  fro, 
when  disturbed,  with  all  the  animation  of  a  trout ;  in 
the  latter,  they  were  of  a  dull,  leaden  hue,  without  a 
trace  of  metallic  luster,  and  more  sluggish  and  sleepy 
than  tadpoles.  Even  the  general  increased  vivacity  of 
fishes  in  spring-time  does  not  inspire  these  mud-haunting 
roach.  They  are  thoroughly  dull,  listless,  and  lazy,  and 
bear  evidence  of  the  direct  influence  of  a  depressing  en- 
vironment upon  them.  The  only  seemingly  contradictory 


406  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

condition  is  the  fact  that  clear,  pleasant  waters  are  with- 
in their  reach,  yet  they  do  not  see  fit  to  leave  their  pres- 
ent unattractive  quarters.  In  certain  of  the  large,  muddy 
pools  frequented  by  roach,  I  have  found  some  of  the 
largest  specimens  of  this  fish  that  I  have  ever  seen.  It 
is  seldom  that  in  Watson's  Creek  wre  find  one  more  than 
seven  inches  long,  but,  in  a  deep  pool  on  a  neighbor's 
meadow,  roach  measuring  nine  inches  in  length  have 
been  taken.  These  are  very  nearly  the  same  in  shape 
and  color  as  those  described  by  De  Kay  as  the  "  varie- 
gated bream."  Of  this  fish,  that  author  remarks  :  "  The 
name  of  wind-fish  is  derived  from  one  of  its  habits. 
"Whenever  a  light  flaw  of  wind  ruffles  the  water,  thou- 
sands of  these  fish  may  be  seen  darting  to  the  surface  and 
as  suddenly  disappearing."  This  I  have  often  noticed 
when,  on  approaching  a  pond  suddenly,  I  have  surprised 
a  school  of  roach.  The  habit  is  not  caused  by  wind  ruf- 
fling the  surface  of  the  water,  but  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  fish  were  startled,  and,  indeed,  it  is  common  among 
all  the  cyprinoids.  These  fish  generally  keep  just  below 
the  surface  of  the  water,  and  so  near  it  that  any  sudden 
movement  is  sure  to  ruffle  it  considerably.  Without  any 
apparent  cause,  hundreds  of  other  shiners  will  leap  an  inch 
or  more  above  the  surface,  and  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  the  cause  of  this  is  the  sudden  appearance  of  preda- 
tory fishes  among  them,  just  as  the  moss-bunkers,  at  sea, 
leap  above  the  water  by  thousands  when  chased  by  the 
blue-fish. 

Another  well-marked  variety  of  the  roach,  found  in 
a  small  creek  some  distance  from  my  home,  are  small, 
slender,  and  of  a  uniform  steel-blue  color.  Even  the  fins 
differ  from  those  of  the  typical  roach  in  size,  and,  on  com- 
parison, other  constant  anatomical  differences  are  to  be 
seen.  Some  years  ago  I  called  attention  to  this  fish  as  a 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  407 

variety  that  closely  approached  the  boundary  of  a  "  spe- 
cies." Since  then  I  have  found  these  blue  roach  in  Cross- 
wicks  Creek,  and  always  in  swiftly  running,  clear,  cold 
water.  It  would  seem,  therefore,  that  the  fish  varies  in  a 
marked  degree  in  accordance  with  its  environment ;  and 
being  a  hardy  species,  capable  of  living  almost  anywhere, 
that  variation  is  necessarily  considerable.  Considered 
from  the  evolutionary  stand-point — the  only  rational  one 
— it  is  an  instance  of  the  instability  of  species,  GO  called, 
and  shows  how  little  change  is  necessary  to  bring  about 
even  permanent  "  specific  "  changes  in  the  anatomy  of  a 
fish.  Once  let  there  occur  a  decided  change  of  habits, 
and  a  change  of  structure  will  ultimately  follow. 

The  next  in  importance  among  the  cyprinoids,  and 
one  exceeding  the  roach  in  size,  is  the  beautiful  fall-fish, 
or  rosy  chub. 

How  great  a  change  in  habits  may  exist  among  the 
fishes  of  a  family  can  be  seen  when  comparing  the  habi- 
tat of  this  chub  with  that  of  a  muddy-pool  roach.  No 
water  is  too  clear,  too  cold,  too  rapid  for  the  chub.  They 
delight  in  stemming  the  swiftest  currents  of  the  river, 
and  die  at  once  if  confined  in  quiet,  sun-warmed  waters. 
To  find  them  in  all  their  glory,  I  have  but  to  go  to  the 
swift  ripples  about  the  rocks  in  the  river.  Here  they 
congregate  in  large  numbers  in  April  and  May,  but  wan- 
der about  singly  later  in  the  season.  Except  during  the 
spring  months,  they  are  not  a  social  species,  as  is  the 
roach.  Chub  are  not  confined  to  the  river,  however,  for 
I  find  many  of  them  wandering  up  Crosswicks  Creek  to 
the  limit  of  tide- water.  Here  they  delight  in  deep  holes, 
and  often  I  have  caught  specimens  of  the  largest  size  by 
carefully  sinking  a  grasshopper  into  some  known  deep 
hole  in  this  creek. 


408  RAMBLES  ABOUT  SOME. 

Like  all  the  cyprinoids,  they  are  seen  at  their  best 
during  the  breeding-season,  and  then,  indeed,  their  color- 
ing is  gorgeous — blue,  purple,  crimson,  gold,  and  silver — 
every  tint  brilliant,  and  all  so  blended  as  to  produce  a 
most  pleasing  effect.  The  fish  either  realize  their  attract- 
ive appearance  at  such  times,  or  their  unusual  animation 
is  a  happy  coincidence.  At  all  events,  every  movement  is 
in  accord  with  their  holiday  attire,  and  no  more  interest- 
ing sight  beneath  the  water  is  to  be  met  with  than  the 
courtship  of  the  rosy  chubs. 

Their  courtship  varies  in  nothing  from  that  of  the 
diurnal  fishes  generally.  The  males  simply  display  their 
charms  to  the  best  advantage  before  the  passive  females, 
resist  the  encroachments  of  every  rival,  and  in  a  few  days 
have  either  chosen  a  mate,  or  been  chosen — it  is  difficult 
to  say  which.  It  is  probable  that  the  females  express 
their  assent  to  the  claims  of  such  aspiring  males  as  meet 
with  their  favor,  and  then  off  they  go.  Those  who  have 
carefully  watched  our  fishes  in  spring  see  little  difference 
between  their  methods  of  courtship  and  that  of  our  birds. 

In  one  respect,  however,  the  chub  differs  materially 
from  the  birds  and  even  many  fish :  it  does  not  concern 
itself  with  the  care  of  its  offspring.  Once  the  eggs  are 
laid  upon  their  bed  of  sand,  all  care  as  to  their  future 
vanishes.  So,  too,  does  the  mutual  regard  of  the  newly 
mated  pair.  Leaving  the  spawning-ground,  they  are  at 
once  utterly  indifferent  to  each  other. 

I  find  it  to  be  a  common  impression  among  those  fish- 
ermen who  have  given  the  subject  any  attention,  that  our 
"  shiners,"  as  a  class,  do  not  pair,  but  go  in  mixed  schools 
to  available  spawning-grounds,  where  the  ova  are  depos- 
ited and  fertilized  in  the  most  careless  manner,  and  that 
many  of  them  are  devoured  by  these  same  fish  ;  that  many 
are  destroyed  by  floating  to  unsuitable  localities ;  and  that 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  409 

but  a  small  proportion  is  really  fertilized  and  sinks  into 
the  sand,  and  is  left  undisturbed  while  the  growth  of  the 
embryo  progresses. 

"While  I  am  satisfied  that  this  is  true  of  many  of  our 
cyprinoids,  if  not  the  most  of  them,  I  am  equally  positive 
that  it  is  not  true  of  the  rosy  chub.  These,  certainly,  are 
mated  until  the  ova  are  deposited  and  fertilized,  as  I  have 
mentioned. 

There  is  yet  another  chub  that  I  find  in  the  same 
neighborhood,  but  the  two  are  not  associated  in  small 
streams.  It  has  so  happened  that  wherever  I  find  the 
one,  I  never  find  the  other.  Why  they  will  not  associate 
I  do  not  know ;  but  when  I  have  taken  one  each  of  these 
two  species,  and  placed  them  in  an  aquarium,  I  have 
never  seen  any  evidence  of  mutual  dislike  on  their  parts. 

It  has  seemed  to  me  that  these  comparatively  dull- 
colored  chub  are  less  particular  as  to  the  localities  they 
frequent,  and  can  thrive  fairly  well  in  quiet  and  warm 
waters.  I  have  never  found  them  in  still-water  ponds, 
but  so  frequently  in  streams  with  but  little  current  that 
the  change  to  a  pond  would  not  be  a  violent  one.  Like 
the  rosy  chub,  this  plainer  species,  which  is  readily  rec- 
ognized by  its  smaller  scales  and  black  spot  on  the  dorsal 
fin,  grows  to  a  large  size,  and  is  therefore  of  some  value 
as  food.  Early  in  the  year,  particularly,  the  flesh  is 
firm  and  well  flavored,  and  I  have  often  thought  that  it 
might  be  cultivated  to  advantage.  Both  species  are  car- 
nivorous, but,  as  their  food-supply  is  largely  composed  of 
insects  and  minute  mollusca,  the  difficulty  of  feeding 
them,  when  placed  in  artificial  ponds,  would  not  be  great. 

There  is  but  one  brook  within  the  limits  of  my  ram- 
bles wherein  occur  the  beautiful  red-fins,  and  even  here 

18 


410  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

they  are  few  and  far  between.  In  other  brooks,  four  or 
five  miles  away,  however,  I  find  them  in  great  abundance, 
and  I  often  linger  long  by  the  babbling  waters  of  the 
Shabbaconk,  for  no  other  reason  than  to  watch  the  gam- 
bols of  these  cyprinoids,  gorgeous  in  crimson  and  gold. 
Unlike  most  of  this  family  of  fishes,  the  male  red-fins 
only  present  a  brilliant  coloring,  and  this  they  retain 
throughout  the  year.  The  difference  during  the  breeding- 
season,  from  other  times  of  the  year,  is  in  the  greater 
prominence  of  the  little  tubercles  that  thickly  dot  their 
heads  and  upper  jaw.  These  prickles  are,  in  themselves, 
of  no  beauty,  and  rather  mar  the  general  appearance  of 
the  fish.  Although  prominent  during  the  breeding-sea- 
son, it  is  very  questionable  if  their  purpose  is  solely  to 
render  their  possessors  more  attractive  in  the  eyes  of  the 
females,  as  is  evidently  the  case  with  bright  coloring. 
"When  we  know  all  about  these  prickles,  their  purpose 
will,  in  all  probability,  be  found  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  sexual  attractiveness. 

Red-fins  are  social  the  year  through,  and  are  seldom 
seen  except  in  schools.  Unlike  the  commoner  roach, 
these  fish  separate  in  May,  and  for  a  while  females  will 
be  found  in  certain  portions  of  a  brook  and  males  in  an- 
other. My  attention  was  first  called  to  this  many  years 
ago,  when  I  noticed,  in  shallow,  rippling  waters,  hundreds 
of  male  red-fins  closely  associated.  The  spot  was  fairly 
purpled  with  their  ruddy  sides  and  fins  gleaming  in  the 
water.  They  filled  a  little  basin  in  the  brook,  and  showed 
no  disposition  to  leave.  Being  disturbed,  they  passed  but 
a  short  distance  down  the  stream  and  resumed  their  close- 
ly associated  positions.  There  were  probably  a  hundred 
or  more,  and  so  close  together  did  they  keep  that  a  space 
not  over  two  feet  in  diameter  contained  them  all.  Not 
a  female  fish  was  among  them.  But  they  had  been  there, 


BEIEF  NOTES   ON  FISHES.  411 

and  deposited  their  ova,  and  the  congregated  male  fish 
were  then  upon  the  spawning-ground  fertilizing  these 
deposits.  Soon  after,  the  sexes  reassemble  and  lead  a 
restless  but  scarcely  eventful  life.  The  young  are  left 
to  shift  for  themselves,  and  to  a  certain  extent  are  de- 
voured by  their  parents.  Professor  Forbes  *  found  but 
one  specimen  in  twenty-one  that  had  eaten  fishes,  but  can- 
nibalistic propensities  are  not  so  uncommon  here  among 
these  fishes.  Indeed,  I  find  that  all  our  shiners  feed 
more  or  less  upon  very  young  fishes  of  the  same  or  allied 
species.  In  speaking  of  the  shiners,  as  a  class,  as  carnivo- 
rous, I  think  we  are  essentially  correct,  and  that  vegeta- 
ble food  is  taken  only  when  animal  food  is  not  readily 
obtained,  or  because  the  two  can  not  be  dissociated.  May 
it  not  be  that  the  mud  found  in  the  intestines  of  cypri- 
noids  was  really  teeming  with  life  when  swallowed,  and 
this  afforded  the  nourishment  needed  by  the  fish  ? 

The  various  other  minnows  or  shiners  that  I  find,  can 
most  profitably  be  considered  in  groups,  for  it  appears 
that  the  same  localities  attract  various  species  of  different 
genera.  A  sweep  of  the  net  will  often  bring  up  repre- 
sentatives of  several  natural  groups ;  for  these  cyprinoids, 
while  nearly  the  same  in  their  habits,  are  very  different 
in  their  anatomical  structure.  Occasionally,  however,  I 
have  found  a  pool  or  a  little  stream  teeming  with  indi- 
viduals of  but  one  or  two  species.  Notably  was  this  true 
when  I  first  met  with  the  typical  pug-nosed  minnows. 
These,  so  alike  in  general  appearance,  prove  to  be  two 
distinct  species,  and  belong  to  different  genera.  The 
great  majority  were  those  which,  in  the  manual,  are 
called  silvery  minnows — which  all  minnows  are — and  the 
others  blunt-nosed  shiners. 

*  "  Illinois  State  Laboratory  of  Natural  History,"  Bulletin  No.  6,  p.  84. 
Normal,  Illinois,  1883. 


412  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

During  the  summer  of  1873,  with  the  assistance  of 
an  enthusiastic  friend,  I  fished  a  spring-pond,  some  dis- 
tance from  home,  and  caught  nearly  one  thousand  speci- 
mens of  the  silvery  minnows.  From  them  I  made  the 
following  notes  with  respect  to  their  size  and  appear- 
ance :  The  adult  size  is  probably  five  inches,  and  what  is 
of  much  interest  to  the  student  is  the  fact  that  the  intesti- 
nal canal  is  so  very  much  longer  than  the  fish.  On  care- 
ful measurement  of  over  one  hundred  specimens,  I  found 
this  length  to  vary  to  a  certain  extent,  though  it  was 
never  less  than  five  and  one  fourth  times  the  length  of 
the  fish.  Unlike  the  other  cyprinoids,  the  peritonaeum 
in  this  species  is  uniformly  and  intensely  black.  The 
food  of  this  shiner  I  supposed  to  be  wholly  vegetable 
matter ;  and  this  would  seem  to  indicate  that  when  the 
digestive  tract  exceeds  the  total  length  of  the  fish,  the 
species  is  herbivorous,  and  when  of  the  same  length,  or 
little  exceeding  it,  that  it  is  omnivorous,  or  carnivorous. 
This,  however,  I  do  not  find  to  hold  good.  Recent  ex- 
aminations of  the  intestinal  tract  showed  a  very  large 
percentage  of  animal  matter,  and  not  nearly  so  much 
mud  as  Professor  Forbes  reports  in  his  examinations  of 
Illinois  specimens. 

During  the  same  summer  I  found  a  single  specimen 
of  the  blunt-nosed  minnow.  It  was  associated  with  the 
preceding.  The  external  differences  were  readily  seen, 
but,  to  make  matters  the  more  sure,  I  dissected  it,  and  the 
short  digestive  tract  and  silvery  peritonaeum  at  once 
showed  that  it  was  a  wholly  different  species. 

Since  then  I  have  frequently  found  them  in  numbers 
in  the  canal  and  in  still  water  in  the  river.  Many  often 
collect  in  the  eddies  about  the  larger  projecting  rocks, 
and  fall  a  prey  to  the  hungry  schools  of  perch  and  rock- 
fish.  My  attention  was  first  called  to  the  abundance  of 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  413 

these  minnows  in  the  river  by  finding  remains  of  several 
in  the  stomach  of  a  rock-fish. 

Neither  of  these  minnows  find  their  way  into  the 
ditches  in  the  meadows  or  into  Watson's  Creek,  though 
they  often  come  up  into  Crosswicks  Creek  directly  from 
the  river.  They  are  never,  however,  so  abundant  here 
as  in  the  river  above  tide-water.  Cool,  clear,  constantly 
running  water  seems  to  be  their  natural  home. 

There  is  yet  another  group  of  shiners,  which  is  repre- 
sented in  the  streams  near  by,  by  four  species.  The 
species  of  this  group  vary  wonderfully  in  size,  as  one  of 
our  largest  shiners — the  spawn-eater — and  the  very  small- 
est are  included  in  it.  This  group  has  no  common  name 
by  which  they  are  known.  The  term  "  minnow "  or 
"  minnie  "  is  that  invariably  applied  to  the  smaller  repre- 
sentatives ;  "  shiner  "  to  the  larger  species. 

The  largest  of  the  four  species  in  this  natural  group, 
and  one  that  is  very  common  in  the  river,  is  the  so-called 
"  spawn-eater."  De  Kay  says  of  this  species,  "  It  is 
called  '  spawn-eater '  from  an  idea  entertained  by  fisher- 
men that  it  lives  exclusively  on  the  spawn  of  other  fishes." 
If  this  were  true,  it  would  be  forced  to  fast  about  ten 
months  of  each  year,  which  would  not  suit  fishes  in  this 
neighborhood,  for  probably  no  animal  consumes  a  greater 
bulk  of  food  in  the  course  of  a  year  than  a  fish. 

The  belief  that  these  minnows  are  spawn-eaters  has 
no  doubt  arisen  from  the  fact  that  the  fish  has  a  sucker- 
like  habit  of  feeling  carefully  over  the  bottom  of  the 
stream  with  its  peculiar  "  telescopic  "  mouth  extended, 
and  so  sucking  up  such  food  as  it  finds  to  its  liking. 
The  examination  of  the  stomachs  of  many  specimens,  at 
different  times  of  the  year,  shows  that,  like  the  common 
roach,  it  feeds  very  largely  on  small  Crustacea  and  the 


4:14:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

minute  mollusca  adhering  to  stones  and  other  stationary 
objects  in  the  beds  of  our  streams.  I  am  quite  sure  that 
the  charge  of  spawn-eating  can  not  be  laid  to  this  fish 
with  more  reason  than  to  all  other  cyprinoids.  Indeed, 
without  an  exception,  the  ova  of  all  other  fishes  are  to 
every  species  of  fish  a  luscious  morsel ;  and  I  have  seen 
sufficient  evidence  to  convince  me  that  not  only  this  spe- 
cies, but  all  cyprinoids,  are  "  spawn-eaters  "  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent ;  but  that  the  name  is  more  deserved  by  any  one  spe- 
cies over  another,  I  strongly  doubt. 

Another  shiner  of  this  group,  which  has  been  favored 
with  no  distinctive  name,  is  very  abundant  in  the  rapid 
water  of  the  river,  but  appears  never  to  seek  the  quiet 
inland  streams.  The  principal  external  difference  char- 
acterizing this  shiner,  when  compared  with  the  preced- 
ing, is  the  more  tapering  snout  and  the  more  slender  and 
graceful  outline  of  the  whole  body. 

Some  years  ago,  I  found  many  of  them  in  very  swift 
waters,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Assunpink  Creek.  They 
seemed  to  be  determined  to  go  up  the  falls,  and  never 
tired  of  making  efforts  to  ascend,  although,  of  course,  they 
made  no  progress.  I  captured  a  few  and  sent  them  to 
an  ichthyologist  in  Philadelphia,  who  pronounced  them  a 
"  new  species,"  and  gave  them  a  Greek  name ;  but  in  the 
manual  they  are  said  not  to  be  "new,"  but  old.  To  me 
they  are  minnows  of  good  size,  great  activity,  and  beau- 
tiful color,  and  so  they  add  a  charm  to  the  waters  they  in- 
habit, and  what  more  need  one  care  to  know  ? 

So  much  for  the  larger  shiners  of  this  group ;  but 
what  of  the  smaller  ones  ?  These  also  must  be  considered 
collectively,  for  I  never  found  the  one  species  without 
as  many  individuals  of  the  other,  and  never  saw  a  solitary 
individual  of  either.  Then,  too,  wherever  these  little  min- 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  415 

nows  are  found,  there  are  sure  to  be  a  host  of  similar- 
looking  fish,  but  which,  in  consequence  of  some  extra 
wrinkle  in  their  skins,  are  called  by  another  and  longer 
scientific  name.  This  need  not  concern  us,  however,  as 
they  are  all  little  minnows,  the  most  diminutive  of  the 
whole  family  of  cyprinoids. 

In  every  little  water-way  throughout  the  meadows, 
as  well  as  in  the  two  creeks  and  the  river,  these  three  lit- 
tle species  of  minnows  are  at  all  times  extremely  abun- 
dant. They  are  the  first  to  appear  in  open  water  when 
the  ice  is  disappearing,  and  they  are  the  last  to  leave 
their  summer  haunts  when  the  ice  binds  every  ditch  and 
brook  in  crystal  fetters.  Perhaps  it  is  nearer  the  truth 
to  say  that  they  are  "  on  the  go  "  the  year  through,  as  I 
have  recorded  them  as  abundant  at  various  times  during 
the  three  winter  months. 

While  the  social  habits  of  these  three  small  fishes 
— none  ever  measuring  two  inches  in  length — clearly  in- 
dicate that  they  possess  some  rudiments  of  intelligence, 
it  is  not  easy  to  determine  in  what  way  they  enjoy  exist- 
ence, if  the  term  "  enjoyment "  is  applicable  to  them. 
I  have  watched  schools  of  them  for  hours,  and  find  that 
their  sole  efforts  are  directed  toward  escaping  dangers. 
The  three  species,  collectively,  have  more  enemies  than 
any  other  creatures  in  the  same  neighborhood.  No  mam- 
mal, bird,  reptile,  or  amphibian,  nor  any  species  of  fish,  is 
beset  with  half  so  many  enemies.  There  is  not  a  preda- 
tory fish  in  the  same  waters  that  does  not  largely  de- 
pend upon  them  for  food  ;  the  young  of  larger  cyprinoids 
being,  of  course,  available  yearly  but  for  a  brief  period. 
Even  the  frogs  seize  them  as  eagerly  as  they  do  strug- 
gling grasshoppers  or  chance  insects ;  the  snakes  and 
turtles  chase  them  eagerly,  or  take  them  by  surprise,  as 
opportunity  offers.  If  a  receding  tide  leaves  them  in 


416  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

shallow  waters,  birds  of  a  dozen  species  eagerly  litmt 
them,  and  late  in  the  spring,  when  after  the  freshets 
chance  pools  become  nearly  or  quite  dry,  mice  and  squir- 
rels will  feast  upon  the  decaying  bodies  of  these  little 
minnows,  that  may  have  escaped  the  searching  glances 
of  our  many  birds.  Even  spiders  have  been  known  to 
capture  single  specimens  and  lift  them  from  the  water. 
Their  principal  safety  appears  to  lie  in  taking  refuge  in 
weeds,  where  they  are  not  seen  so  readily.  I  found  that 
this  was  their  principal  method  of  avoiding  the  single 
predatory  fish  I  kept  in  the  same  tank  with  them.  They 
are  not  disposed  to  remain  hidden,  however ;  and  soon 
after  rushing  pell-mell  into  a  mass  of  weeds,  they  reap- 
pear and  face  the  dangers  that  they  know  confront  them. 
Where  they  feed  and  what  they  feed  upon  I  can  not  say, 
but  their  movements  at  times  clearly  indicate  that  they 
find  something  to  prey  upon,  but  the  objects  are  so  small 
that  I  could  not  detect  them  with  the  naked  eye.  This  I 
have  tried  by  scooping  up  a  bucket  of  water  where  the 
minnows  were  feeding,  but  such  efforts  availed  nothing. 
I  am  satisfied  that,  small  as  they  are,  these  little  minnows 
are  carnivorous,  and  suggest  that  they  have  the  power  of 
seeing  such  forms  of  animal  life  as  can  only  be  detected 
by  man  with  the  aid  of  a  microscope. 

When  these  little  minnows  enter  the  more  shallow 
waters,  in  March  and  April,  it  will  be  noticed  that  the 
coloring  of  about  one  half  their  numbers  is  more  brill- 
iant than  during  summer  and  autumn.  The  fins  are  even 
rosy,  and  the  lower  lines  of  scales  almost  crimson.  Early 
in  May  this  color  begins  to  fade,  and  is  soon  replaced  by 
the  characteristic  silvery  hue  of  the  remaining  months  of 
the  year.  This  growth,  climax,  and  fading  of  gorgeous 
colors,  which  is  confined  to  the  male  fishes,  correspond 
with  the  growth  of  the  eggs  in  the  females,  and  their 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  417 

deposition.  Just  when  this  takes  place  I  have  not  been 
able  to  determine,  nor  whether  it  is  preceded  by  the 
building  of  a  nest  of  pebbles,  as  we  shall  see  is  the  case 
with  the  equally  common  black-nosed  dace,  to  which  ref- 
erence will  be  made  on  a  subsequent  page. 

Passing  through  the  meadows,  over  to  Crosswicks 
Creek,  I  often  linger  by  one  of  the  large  springs  issuing 
from  the  hill-side,  for  the  purpose  of  watching  the  score 
or  more  of  "  silver-fins  "  that  are  always  there.  Although 
these  fishes  are  of  a  dull,  silvery  hue  only,  they  are, 
nevertheless,  exceedingly  beautiful.  They  have  an  inde- 
scribable grace,  and  are  very  conspicuous  from  the  satin- 
white  coloring  of  their  fins.  Found  only  in  clear,  rap- 
idly-running waters,  they  are  in  all  respects  fit  occupants 
of  such  localities,  and  do  not  give  the  impression  of  being 
intruders,  as  do  the  occasional  roach  or  cat-fish  that  hap- 
pen to  wander  into  the  same  spring-brooks.  A  silver-fin 
is  as  much  at  home  in  the  spring-brooks  as  the  trout  it- 
self. 

The  habits  of  this  cyprinoid  are  essentially  the  same 
as  those  of  the  red-fin,  already  described.  They  spawn 
in  May,  depositing  the  ova  in  little  basins  of  clean  sand 
in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  there  the  eggs  are  left, 
without  a  trace  of  subsequent  attention  from  the  parent 
fishes.  I  believe  the  young  fish  are  two  years  old  before 
they  acquire  the  satin-white  coloring  of  the  fins  which 
makes  them  the  most  conspicuous  of  all  our  cyprinoids, 
except  the  red-fins. 

In  less  attractive  places,  but  where  the  water  has  a 
decided  current  and  is  moderately  clear,  as  in  the  canal 
and  the  river,  there  is  another  scarcely  less  attractive 
minnow,  which  the  author  of  the  manual  quite  ignores. 
This  is  the  rosy  minnow,  that  I  first  found,  nearly  ten 
years  ago,  in  the  canal  near  here.  In  general  appear- 


418  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

ance  it  is  more  like  the  rosy  minnow  described  years  ago 
by  Professor  Agassiz,  than  any  other  cyprinoid,  though 
it  is  quite  different. 

The  first  specimens  that  I  found  were  collected  late 
in  August,  and  the  colors  noted  while  they  were  in  an 
aquarium.  The  back  is  olive-green,  the  sides  bright  sil- 
very; the  scales  generally  marked  with  minute  black 
dots.  As  in  the  preceding,  it  is  not  the  coloring  but  the 
general  appearance  and  grace  of  movement  that  make 
this  species  so  attractive  and  beautiful. 

The  name  of  rosy  minnow  is  only  applicable  to  the 
male  fish  in  spring,  when  the  silvery  sides  become  a 
beautiful  shade  of  red.  This  lasts,  however,  but  for  a 
few  weeks. 

Since  18T3,  when  I  first  found  these  minnows,  I  have 
collected  many  others,  and  always  in  the  canal  or  river. 
They  do  not  appear  to  enter  Crosswicks  Creek  at  all, 
though  why  they  should  prefer  the  canal  to  the  creek  and 
the  net-work  of  ditches,  is  a  problem  I  will  not  attempt 
to  solve. 

Associated  with  the  above,  in  several  instances,  as  I 
find  recorded  in  my  notes,  were  individuals  of  a  curious 
cyprinoid,  the  "rosy  dace"  of  the  manual,  and  "pike- 
shiner"  of  my  memoranda. %  These  cyprinoids  are  of 
great  interest  because  they  have  a  fierce,  pike-like  appear- 
ance, and  their  habits  are  in  accordance  with  their  ap- 
pearance. In  other  words,  they  are  very  suggestive  of 
evolution,  and  are,  in  fact,  an  apparent  branching  off 
from  the  original  stock. 

To  see  these  "  pike-shiners,"  as  the  boys  about  here 
call  them,  singly,  moving  deliberately  about,  at  once  re- 
calls the  pike ;  and  while  I  have  never  seen  them  catch  a 
fish  and  devour  it,  they  do  snap  and  swallow  insects  in  the 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  419 

most  approved  trout-like  manner.  Other  cyprinoids  do 
the  same,  I  know,  but  none  have  the  pike-like  quickness, 
and  I  may  add  ferocity,  of  this  species.  This  I  thoroughly 
tested  by  keeping  several  of  them  in  my  aquarium. 
They  quickly  caused  to  disappear  a  score  of  the  small  min- 
nows in  the  tank ;  although  I  never  could  see  them  in 
the  act  of  molesting  these  smaller  fishes. 

They  are  not  abundant,  and  I  am  not  sure  but  that  I 
should  have  overlooked  them  had  I  not  heard  them 
spoken  of  by  juvenile  anglers,  who  asked  me  if  the  fish 
in  question  were  "  real  shiners  or  some  sort  of  a  pike." 
These  boys  had  become  familiar  with  a  species  of  fish  in 
this  neighborhood  that  had,  up  to  that  time,  wholly  es- 
caped me.  I  have  been  less  positive  as  to  the  extent  and 
accuracy  of  my  knowledge  of  our  fishes  ever  since. 

The  true  dace,  of  which  I  find  two  species,  are  very 
different  in  every  respect  from  the  preceding.  One  of 
them,  the  black-nosed  dace,  is  an  exceedingly  common 
species,  and  is  found  in  every  brook  arid  ditch  that  has 
anything  of  a  current.  Like  the  red-fins  and  silver-fins, 
these  dace  must  always  be  struggling  up  stream,  and 
darting,  when  frightened,  down  stream ;  but  in  quiet 
water  they  are  at  once  lost,  and,  after  moving  restlessly 
about  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  find  a  current,  they  give  up 
the  effort  and  the  ghost  together. 

Mr.  C.  F.  Holder,  from  whom  I  have  already  quoted 
in  regard  to  other  fishes,  remarks  of  the  black-nosed 
dace :  "  In  the  warm  weeks  of  June  come  the  sterner 
duties,  the  nesting-time ;  male  and  female  join  in  the 
preparation,  and  the  locality  is  selected,  perhaps  in  some 
running  brook,  in  shallow  water.  Roots,  snags,  and 
leaves  are  carried  away,  both  sometimes  tugging  at  a  sin- 
gle piece,  taking  it  down  stream,  and  working  faithfully, 


420  EAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

until  we,  who  are  watching  from  the  bank,  despite  the 
strong  protest  of  the  ants,  see  a  clearing  over  two  feet  in 
diameter.  Here  the  first  eggs  are  deposited,  and  the 
male,  who  has  retired,  soon  appears  from  up-stream,  bear- 
ing in  its  mouth  a  pebble,  that  is  placed  among  the  eggs 
that  form  a  layer  in  the  center  of  the  clearing.  Now 
they  both  swim  away,  soon  returning,  each  bearing  a  peb- 
ble in  its  mouth  that  is  dropped  upon  the  eggs.  Slowly 
the  work  goes  on,  until  a  layer  of  clean  pebbles  apparent- 
ly covers  the  eggs ;  now  the  female  deposits  a  second 
layer  of  eggs,  and  more  pebbles  are  brought,  the  little 
workers  scouring  the  neighborhood  for  them,  piling  up 
stones  and  eggs  alternately  until  the  heap  attains  a  height 
of  eight  inches  or  more,  formed  in  various  shapes,  some- 
times pyramidal  or  dome-shaped — monuments  of  the 
patience  of  these  finny  house-keepers.  Who  would  sus- 
pect their  purpose?  Even  the  gleaners  of  the  golden 
fields,  in  whose  brooks  our  little  friends  are  found,  have 
not  discovered  their  secret,  and  think  the  curious  piles 
washings  of  the  brook  itself." 

The  other  dace,  the  long-nosed  species,  is  still  more 
dependent  upon  clear  running  water,  and  dies  immediate- 
ly if  placed  in  still  waters,  as  in  an  aquarium.  Even 
water  kept  cold  with  ice  does  not  suit  them.  It  must  be 
both  cool  and  rapidly  flowing. 

There  is  but  one  brook  within  the  range  of  my  ram- 
bles where  the  long-nosed  dace  is  found,  and  here  they 
occur  but  sparingly.  I  have  usually  found  them  beneath 
flat  stones,  or  hidden  by  the  overhanging  banks  of  the 
brook.  The  moment  they  are  surprised,  away  they  dart, 
and  seek  shelter  in  some  such  place  as  I  have  mentioned. 
For  this  reason  they  are  difficult  to  capture,  and  being 
but  seldom  seen,  unless  carefully  looked  for,  they  are 
readily  overlooked  by  the  casual  observer. 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  421 

The  sixteen  species  of  fishes  that  have  been  so  briefly 
referred  to  in  the  preceding  pages  are  worthy  of  much 
study,  but  collectively,  rather  than  with  a  view  of  deter- 
mining just  in  what  particulars  they  differ  among  them- 
selves. As  a  group,  they  are  of  much  importance  in  the 
economy  of  nature,  as  must  necessarily  be  the  case  where 
any  animal  exists  in  vast  numbers  in  comparatively 
crowded  quarters. 

During  the  past  few  summers  I  have  studied  these 
fishes  as  a  group,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  the  influence 
they  exerted  upon  the  general  fauna  of  the  locality,  and 
have  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  part  that  cyprinoids 
play  is  mainly  that  of  a  check 'upon  the  undue  increase 
of  lower  forms  of  aquatic  animal  life.  In  consequence  of 
their  vast  numbers,  they  prevent  the  fouling  of  much 
water  that  would  otherwise  become  offensive,  and  yet  do 
not,  of  themselves,  contaminate  the  water,  however  nu- 
merous they  may  be. 

Cyprinoids,  as  a  class,  are  carnivorous,  or  more  prop- 
erly omnivorous ;  and  although  with  weak,  toothless 
jaws,  the  arming  of  their  pharyngeal  bones  with  power- 
ful cutting  and  crushing  teeth  enables  them  to  feed 
upon  animal  substances  as  readily  as  do  the  predatory 
species  of  fish.  I  judge  that  the  great  bulk  of  their 
food  is  the  minute  animal  life  that  teems  in  all  water, 
and  also  the  small  mollusca,  of  which  they  devour 
enormous  quantities.  The  result  of  my  studies  of  such 
of  these  fishes  as  I  have  kept  in  aquaria  is,  that  young 
mollusca  are  the  favorite  food  of  cyprinoids,  for  I  found 
it  very  difficult  to  so  plentifully  supply  them  as  to  sur- 
feit the  fish  to  which  they  were  offered.  It  is  in  this 
way,  I  believe,  that  the  cyprinoids  aid  materially  in 
keeping  our  streams  in  that  condition  which  we  call 
"  pure." 


422  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

From  an  evolution  stand-point,  these  fishes  are  ex- 
ceedingly interesting,  and,  I  may  add,  instructive.  By 
a  "  species  "  let  me  here  state  that  nothing  is  meant  but 
a  convenient  arrangement  of  the  various  forms  of  animal 
life  for  purposes  of  study;  and  in  the  "species"  of  cypri- 
noids  is  seen  only  so  many  varied  forms  evolved  by  natu- 
ral selection  from  some  primitive  form  of  omnivorous 
fresh-water  fish,  from  which  has  sprung  a  variety  of 
forms,  through  a  countless  series  of  generations,  that 
have,  each  in  its  own  place  and  time,  become  suited  to 
the  particular  haunts  they  chanced  to  frequent  or  were 
forced  to  occupy.  Considering  a  "  species  "  in  this  way, 
and  also  bearing  in  mind  the  amount  of  variation  seen 
among  any  considerable  number  of  individuals  of  any 
one  species,  and  knowing  that  varieties  are  steadily  be- 
coming more  and  more  differentiated  and  are  thus  enter- 
ing what  may  be  termed  "  specific  territory,"  I  claim  that 
it  is  not  an  unwarranted  use  of  the  imagination  to  picture 
to  one's  self  a  primitive,  typical  cyprinoid,  from  which 
the  sixteen  so-called  "  species  "  in  this  neighborhood  have 
been  derived. 

The  Delaware  River  and  its  several  tributaries  in  this 
neighborhood  are  well  supplied  with  that  family  of  fishes 
popularly  known  as  "  suckers  "  ;  fish  that  are  most  nearly 
allied  to  the  cyprinoids  proper,  about  which  we  have  just 
been  speaking.  I  have  always  been  puzzled  to  find  the 
merits  of  these  great  lubberly  fish.  The  last  considera- 
tion in  my  mind,  in  studying  animals,  is  their  value  as 
food  for  man  ;  though  even  in  this  regard  very  little  can 
be  said  in  favor  of  these  abundant,  but  utterly  stale,  flat, 
and  unprofitable  fish. 

Inasmuch  as  these  same  suckers,  or  catostomoids,  are 
among  the  earliest  of  the  river  fishes  to  come  up  stream 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  423 

in  the  spring,  they  should  have  a  kindly  word  spoken  of 
them.  Unfortunately,  they  come  in  such  a  stupid,  list- 
less manner,  that  no  enthusiasm  is  roused  in  watching 
them,  as  there  is  when  the  first  flock  of  blackbirds 
darkens  the  sky  in  March.  When  I  see  the  suckers  in 
March  moving  slowly  up  the  creeks,  I  always  think  of 
the 

"  ten  thousand  men 

That  marched  up-hill  and  then  marched  down  again." 
There  does  not  appear  to  be  any  animation  about  them ; 
no  points  of  interest  that  stay  our  footsteps  for  a  moment. 
As  an  urchin  of  flve  summers  once  remarked  to  me, 
"  Does  they  knows  what  they's  come  for  ? "  It  is  an  open 
question  whether  they  do  or  not.  I  have  found  what  I 
take  to  be  their  bones  in  Indian  shell-heaps  on  Crosswicks 
Creek,  and  my  only  wonder  is  that  the  Indians  should 
have  thought  them  lit  to  eat. 

The  manual,  at  hand,  to  which  I  refer  for  the  most 
recent  nomenclature  of  the  "species"  found  in  these 
waters,  allows  us  five  varieties  of  "  suckers." 

Of  these  there  are  two,  known  locally  as  "  river  suck- 
ers," which  throng  the  river  and  creeks  in  March  and 
then  very  generally  disappear,  or,  in  other  words,  return 
whence  they  came,  to  the  deep  waters  of  the  lower,  tide- 
water portion  of  the  river.  A  third  species,  which  my 
neighbors  call  the  "  chub-sucker,"  is  also  found  in  the 
river,  but,  unlike  the  others,  is  equally  abundant  the  year 
through.  It  is  particularly  obnoxious  to  those  who  are 
fond  of  line-fishing,  as  it  is  believed  to  be,  of  all  spawn- 
eaters,  the  most  persistent  and  destructive.  I  have  en- 
deavored to  trace  out  the  origin  of  this  common  impres- 
sion, but  without  success.  That  it  is  true  of  it  I  doubt. 
A  still  less  abundant  species  of  this  group  is  that  known 
locally  as  the  "  mud-sucker."  This  local  name  is  said  by 


4-24  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

the  author  of  the  manual  to  be  inappropriate,  and  that 
the  fish  frequents  clear  streams  and  rapids,  and  is  not  at 
all  a  "  mud-fish,"  as  some  writers  seem  to  suppose.  Now 
it  is  very  probably  true  that  this  fish  is  a  "  stone-roller  " 
out  "West,  but  this  does  not  prevent  its  poking  into  the 
mud  in  the  Delaware  Yalley.  Some  years  ago  I  found 
a  number  of  these  fish  in  Cross  wicks  Creek,  and  noticed 
their  decided  preference  for  the  muddy  bottom  and  com- 
paratively still  waters  of  certain  portions  of  the  creek ; 
and  in  all  the  years  since  then,  there  has  been  nothing 
noticed  in  their  choice  of  locality  that  has  led  me  to  think 
otherwise.  In  this  same  creek  there  is  an  abundance  of 
rapid  waters  and  pebbly  bottoms,  but  these  are  not  fre- 
quented more  than  the  mud.  Since  the  publication  of 
the  manual,  I  have  looked  this  up,  and  know  whereof  I 
speak.  For  instance,  one  pleasant  August  afternoon  in 
1881,  I  slowly  floated  with  the  tide  down  the  creek,  and 
carefully  watched  a  number  of  these  black  suckers  as  they 
were  slowly  swimming  up  the  creek.  They  were  all 
moving  in  the  same  manner,  with  their  noses  thrust  a 
short  distance  into  the  mud,  and  they  left  behind  them, 
as  they  passed  by,  a  shallow,  wavy  line  in  the  mud, 
which  was  easily  traced  through  the  clear  waters.  Had 
I  seen  no  fish,  I  should  have  taken  these  lines  to  have 
been  the  tracks  of  moll  asks. 

Lastly,  there  is  the  omnipresent  "  mullet,"  and  verily 
I  do  not  think  there  is  a  rod  of  shallow  ditch,  even,  that 
is  not  tenanted  by  a  dozen  of  them.  When  young,  they 
associate  with  whatever  cyprinoids  happen  to  be  wan- 
dering in  the  same  waters,  their  habits  being  essen- 
tially the  same.  Unlike  the  other  four  "  suckers  "  I  have 
mentioned,  this  fish,  when  young,  thrives  well  in  per- 
fectly quiet  water,  and  seems  to  suffer  no  inconvenience 
when  the  July  sun  warms  the  still  ponds  to  such  a  degree 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  425 

that  all  the  other  fishes  leave  in  disgust,  and  seek  the 
bubbling  springs,  or  bury  themselves  in  the  mud.  This 
latter  is  a  trick  of  many  fishes  that  are  not  supposed  to 
have  any  liking  for  either  mud  or  "  thick  "  water. 

Adult  mullet  differ  from  the  young  of  one  or  two 
summers  in  being  strictly  nocturnal.  Throughout  the 
day  they  remain  quietly  at  rest  among  the  weeds  in  the 
bottom  of  the  creek  or  ditch,  but  on  the  approach  of  dark- 
ness they  are  full  of  activity,  and  not  only  wander  to  and 
fro  through  the  water,  but  come  to  the  surface  and  even 
leap  above  it.  The  change  is  very  great.  It  is  during 
this  excited  state,  or  throughout  the  night,  that  these  fish 
utter  audible  sounds  which  will  be  referred  to  in  a  subse- 
quent page. 

There  are  two  well  defined  species  of  cat-fish  common 
to  the  river  and  creeks  about  here,  and  it  often  happens 
that  an  apparent  third  species  is  found ;  but  this  I  am 
inclined  to  consider  is  merely  a  hybrid. 

Of  these,  the  first  is  the  common  white  cat-fish.  This 
is  exceedingly  abundant  in  the  river  and  in  all  running 
waters.  Such  localities  it  prefers — indeed,  are  essential 
to  it — and  once  out  of  them,  it  promptly  suffers  much 
discomfort.  It  is  due  to  this  fact,  I  suppose,  that  it  is 
far  less  tenacious  of  life  than  the  other  species. 

In  the  river,  the  white  cat-fish,  which  by  the  way  is 
often  glossy  black,  and  sometimes  mottled,  is  usually 
found  associated  with  the  schools  of  white  perch,  when 
the  latter  are  coming  up  the  river.  The  cat-fish,  however, 
do  not  migrate,  as  do  the  perch.  So  far  as  I  have  been 
able  to  learn  by  questioning  old  fishermen,  there  is  no 
one  time  of  the  year  when  they  are  more  abundant  than 
at  others. 

These  fish,  it  would  seem,  have  been  utilized  by  some 


426  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

who  would  fain  foretell  the  character  of  the  corning  win- 
ters. I  have  endeavored  to  trace  the  origin  of  many  of 
these  "  sayings,"  as  already  mentioned  when  speaking  of 
the  squirrels  and  musk-rats,  and  I  also  tried  to  determine 
how  much  truth  might  be  contained  in  any  of  these  so- 
called  signs.  In  not  one  of  them  has  anything  worthy 
of  credence  been  found.  Here  is  a  "  weather  sign  "  re- 
ferring to  cat-fish,  which  I  have  clipped  from  a  newspa- 
per. It  is  evidently  as  meaningless  as  are  all  such  so- 
called  signs : 

"  How  do  you  tell  when  it's  going  to  be  a  cold  win- 
ter, Uncle  Abe  ?" 

"I  mostly  tells  by  de  fish.  I  been  a  fisher  all  my  life, 
ever  since  I  been  a  little  nigger  so  high,  and  if  you  no- 
tice a  cat-fish  in  de  fall  you  will  see  dat  sometimes  de 
skin  on  his  belly  is  thick  and  sometimes  it  is  thin. 
When  its  thick  dar's  gwine  to  be  a  cold  winter,  an'  when 
it's  thin  dar's  gwine  to  be  a  warm  'un.  I  never  knowed 
dat  sign  to  fail." 

"  How  is  their  skin  this  winter,  Uncle  Abe  ? " 

"  I'm  mighty  sorry  to  say,  chile,  it's  mighty  thick." 

The  other  and  even  more  abundant  cat-fish  is  the 
"mud-cat,"  or,  as  my  young  friends  invariably  call  it,  the 
"catty."  This  is  essentially  a  meadow  and  "Watson's 
Creek  species  with  us,  and  it  is  almost  as  abundant,  even 
in  the  ditches,  as  the  mullet. 

However  enthusiastic  one  may  be,  I  can  scarcely  con- 
ceive of  any  one  becoming  excited  over  a  sleepy  cat-fish, 
as  it  lazily  loafs  over  stretches  of  mud,  and  threads  its 
languid  way  through  a  forest  of  lily-stems.  This,  in  fact, 
about  covers  the  range  of  its  habits  for  fully  ten  months 
of  the  year,  as  I  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  cat-fish 
hibernate ;  at  least,  about  here. 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  427 

r- 

During  the  months  of  May  and  June  there  is  a 
change  for  the  better,  and  it  is  interesting  to  observe  the 
care  then  exhibited  by  the  parent  fish  in  guarding  their 
numerous  progeny.  Unlike  the  majority  of  our  fishes, 
who  know  nothing  of  their  young,  the  cat-fish  guard 
theirs  with  much  solicitude,  and  often  brave  great  dan- 
gers to  extricate  such  of  their  young  as  may  have  fallen 
into  trouble.  In  thus  caring  for  their  offspring,  they 
remind  one  forcibly  of  a  hen  and  her  chickens.  The  old 
fish  scratches  the  mud,  or  rather  roots  it  up,  with  as 
much  earnestness  as  a  hen  does  the  dunghill ;  and  the 
young  fish  crowd  about  her  head,  as  eager  for  something 
edible  as  are  the  chicks  for  worms  or  seeds.  The  simi- 
larity may  extend  further,  and  the  old  fish  may  cluck  to 
her  young ;  but  of  this  I  am  not  positive,  though  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  it.  That  cat-fish  have  a  fairly  well 
developed  voice  is  unquestionable. 

In  order  to  test  the  patience  and  affection  for  their 
young,  possessed  by  this  fish,  I  experimented  in  this 
manner :  With  a  scoop-net  I  captured  nearly  an  entire 
brood,  and  put  them  into  a  large  glass  globe,  which  I 
covered  at  the  top  with  fine  sieving.  Placing  the  globe 
with  its  contents  in  the  water,  I  was  delighted  to  find 
that  the  parent  fish  evidently  recognized  its  offspring, 
and  was,  as  can  well  be  imagined,  in  great  trouble  and 
perplexity  at  their  evident  imprisonment,  which  was  a 
great  mystery.  The  parent  fish  swam  boldly  up  to  the 
glass,  and  was  brought  to  a  stand-still  by  the  unseen  bar- 
rier which  separated  her  from  her  young.  So  long  as  I 
watched,  the  bewildered  fish  did  not  cease  her  efforts  to 
break  through  the  mysterious  something  that  prevented 
her  young  from  escaping.  I  left  the  globe  in  the  water 
through  the  night,  and  found  early  the  next  morning 
that  the  faithful  parent  was  still  at  her  post.  As  the 


428  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

confinement  was  proving  fatal  to  some  of  the  young  fish, 
I  released  them.  The  parent  remained  as  near  as  she 
dared,  and  as  the  young  clustered  about  her  she  seemed 
to  give  each  a  kindly  greeting  and  no  doubt  a  word  of 
advice,  for  no  sooner  was  the  globe  emptied  than  the 
whole  brood  surrounded  their  parent,  and  quickly  swam 
away  in  very  compact  ranks. 

To  this  day,  if  fishes  talk,  the  curious  adventures  of 
that  brood  of  cat-fish  are  surely  related  by  the  descendants 
of  those  who  were  concerned  in  them. 

I  subsequently  repeated  this  experiment  with  certain 
variations,  and  with  even  more  satisfactory  results.  I 
placed  the  glass  globe  containing  the  brood  of  young  cat- 
fish on  the  bank  of  the  stream  from  which  they  were 
taken,  and  in  full  view  of  the  parent  fish,  which  was 
greatly  excited  by  being  deprived  of  her  charge.  This 
fish  at  once  recognized  that  her  young  were  not  in  the 
creek  although  they  were  swimming  in  water.  After  a 
variety  of  restless  movements,  its  curiosity  overcame  its 
discretion ;  and  it  left  the  creek,  and,  as  best  it  could, 
made  its  way  to  the  base  of  the  globe  containing  her 
young,  a  distance  of  about  two  feet.  Here  she  remained 
for  nine  minutes,  quietly  watching  her  brood,  and  then 
returned  to  the  water.  In  a  few  moments  she  returned, 
having  recovered  from  the  effects  of  exposure  to  the  air. 
I  now  liberated  the  young  cat-fish  ;  and  they  immediately 
clustered  about  their  parent  and  followed  her  into  deep 
water. 

Wherever  you  find  cat-fish  it  is  quite  certain  that  eels 
also  abound  in  equal  or  greater  numbers.  In  most  of 
their  habits  the  two  species  of  fish  are  quite  alike,  when 
in  the  same  ditch  or  pond ;  but  the  eel  has  this  advan- 
tage over  the  cat-fish,  that  it  can  leave  the  water  when 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  429 

it  chooses  and  wander  away  to  some  new  locality.  To 
what  extent  this  power  to  live  in  the  atmosphere  for  a 
long  time,  and  progress,  snake-like,  for  long  distances 
through  wet  grass,  explains  their  presence  in  small  spring- 
ponds  without  surface  outlets,  I  do  not  know,  but  that 
it  bears  directly  upon  this  question  can  not  be  doubted. 

In  the  spring  of  1879,  while  watching  the  progress 
of  the  work  of  grubbing  and  otherwise  clearing  a  piece 
of  swamp-meadow,  I  was  surprised  to  find  a  group  of  eels, 
seventeen  in  number,  in  a  mossy  mass  of  earth  and  roots 
of  loose  texture,  through  which  water  from  a  spring  near 
by  freely  circulated,  but  not  in  such  quantities  as  to  en- 
able a  fish  to  swim.  These  eels  were  not  a  tangled  mass, 
so  interwrapped  as  to  suggest  the  idea  that  they  sought 
contact  with  each  other  for  mutual  aid  or  warmth,  but 
each  was  twisted,  rather  than  coiled,  in  quite  a  snake- 
like  manner  by  itself,  and  while  each  was  very  near  its 
neighbors,  probably  no  two  were  in  contact.  On  taking 
them  up — they  varied  from  six  inches  to  a  foot  in  length 
— they  seemed  somewhat  sluggish  and  indisposed  to  es- 
cape until  revived,  as  it  appeared,  by  the  warmth  of  the 
hand,  when  they  struggled  to  be  free ;  and  several  es- 
caped, as  they  were  covered,  as  I  subsequently  found,  by 
an  unusually  thick  coat  of  slime.  Their  movements  over 
the  damp  earth  were  quite  unembarrassed,  and  I  noticed 
that  while  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  proximity 
of  running  water,  these  escaping  eels  wriggled  in  a  very 
direct  line  for  the  nearest  point  at  which  they  could 
reach  the  ditch.  I  permitted  them  all  to  escape  but  two, 
which  I  dissected.  There  was  so  small  an  amount  of 
matter  in  their  stomachs  and  intestines,  that  they  must 
have  been  fasting  during  their  semi-aquatic  sojourn  in 
the  spot  where  I  found  them. 

Close  examination  showed  that  the  spring-water  did 


430  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

not  and  had  not  run  as  a  stream  from  or  through  this 
spot ;  and  though  it  was  submerged  during  unusually 
high  water,  yet  it  was  not  possible  that  those  eels  had 
reached  here  during  a  freshet,  and  had  remained  here 
ever  since,  especially  as  it  was  more  than  a  year  since  the 
place  had  been  under  water.  There  was  every  indication 
that  these  eels  had  voluntarily  left  the  ditch,  some  fifty 
feet  distant,  and  sought  out  this  spring-hole,  which,  owing 
to  its  southern  exposure  and  constant  supply  of  water, 
was  certainly  a  comfortable  spot.  But  the  question 
arises,  Is  this  a  common  occurrence  ?  Furthermore,  do 
eels  habitually  hibernate,  choosing  ordinarily  the  soft, 
muddy  bottoms  of  our  deeper  ponds,  and  the  tidal  por- 
tions of  our  rivers  ?  I  know  they  are  generally  supposed 
to  do  so,  but  the  frequency  with  which  I  have  taken 
them  when  fishing  in  deep  waters  under  the  ice,  has  led 
me  to  doubt  whether  the  habit  is  as  common  as  is  sup- 
posed. 

It  is  fitting  that  my  notes  on  our  common  fishes 
should  terminate  with  the  rarest  of  them  all,  the  gar, 
which  of  late  years  is  but  rarely  seen  in  the  Delaware  or 
its  tributaries.  'Not  only  are  they  seldom  seen  now,  but 
I  find  no  reference  to  them  in  the  writings  of  such  early 
travelers  as  took  an  interest  in  the  fauna  of  the  country. 

The  gar  should  not  be  confounded  with  the  bill -fish, 
which  is  also  called  "gar  "  by  many  of  our  fishermen. 

The  true  gar  is  found  in  the  river  all  the  year  round, 
and  occasionally  a  big  fellow  wanders  into  Crosswicks 
Creek,  near  by,  and  here  I  have  occasionally  been  fortu- 
nate enough  to  see  them. 

As  to  their  habits,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  there  is 
not  much  to  be  said.  They  are  much  like  the  pike,  re- 
main much  of  the  time  half  concealed  in  the  river-weeds, 


BRIEF  NOTES  ON  FISHES.  431 

and  when  a  small  fish  comes  near,  dart  at  and  seize  it 
with  all  the  agility  of  that  fish.  Sometimes  they  seize  a 
large  chub  midway  across  the  body,  and  worry  it  nearly 
into  halves  by  a  slight  motion  of  the  jaws.  When  satis- 
fied that  the  chub  can  not  escape,  they  loosen  their  hold, 
and,  taking  it  in  a  more  convenient  manner,  they  swallow 
it  without  further  preliminary  carving.  Zadoc  Thomp- 
son, in  his  "  History  of  Vermont,"  refers  to^the  feeding 
habits  of  the  gar  as  follows :  "  This  singular  fish  was  de- 
scribed by  Samuel  Champlain  as  an  inhabitant  of  the  lake 
now  bearing  his  name,  more  than  two  hundred  years  ago. 
He  called  it  Chausarou,  which  was  probably  the  Indian 
name.  The  Indians  assured  him  they  were  often  seen 
eight  or  ten  feet  long,  but  the  largest  he  saw  was  only 
five  feet  long,  and  about  the  thickness  of  a  man's  thigh. 
It  is  considered  a  very  voracious  fish,  and  when  any  of 
them  are  taken  or  seen  in  the  water,  the  fishermen  calcu- 
]ate  upon  little  success  in  taking  other  kinds.  Charle- 
voix  tells  us  that  he  preys  not  only  upon  other  fishes,  but 
upon  birds  also  ;  and  that  he  takes  them  by  the  follow- 
ing stratagem :  concealing  himself  among  the  reeds  grow- 
ing on  the  marshy  borders  of  the  lake,  he  thrusts  his 
bill  out  of  the  water  in  an  upright  position.  The  bird, 
wanting  rest,  takes  this  for  a  broken  limb  or  dry  reed, 
and  perches  upon  it.  The  fish  then  opens  his  mouth  and 
makes  such  a  sudden  spring  that  the  bird  seldom  es- 
capes him.  Charlevoix  also  assures  us  that  the  Indians 
regarded  the  teeth  of  this  fish  as  a  sovereign  remedy 
for  the  headache,  and  that  pricking  with  it  where  the 
pain  was  sharpest  took  it  away  instantly."  I  must  con- 
fess I  have  my  doubts  about  this  stratagem  on  the  part  of 
the  gar,  but  if  it  was  true  of  them  in  Charlevoix's  time, 
is  it  at  all  probable  that  they  have  lost  the  art  since  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  if  gars  were  so  smart  then,  were  other 


432  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

fishes  equally  cunning,  and  have  they  all  become  less 
knowing  in  their  ways  'i 

There  seems  to  be  an  impression  that  the  gar  is  a 
fresh-water  fish  exclusively,  but  this  is  a  grave  error.  I 
have  learned  from  observing  fishermen  that  many  more 
are  caught  in  the  brackish  waters  of  Delaware  Bay  than 
higher  up  the  river.  Whether  they  ever  pass  out  to  sea 
I  do  not  know,  but  certainly  they  often  go  to  the  very 
dividing  line  between  the  bay  and  the  ocean  proper. 

My  last  opportunity  of  seeing  a  living  gar  was  late  in 
the  summer  of  1880.  My  attention  was  attracted  to  it  by 
its  coming  to  the  surface  and  discharging  a  great  mass  of 
air,  which  formed  bubbles  on  the  water.  Then  the  fish 
floated  for  several  minutes,  lying  so  near  the  surface  that 
a  small  portion  of  his  entire  length  appeared  to  be  out  of 
water.  Suddenly  he  rolled  over  and  disappeared.  An 
hour  later,  I  saw  what  I  suppose  was  the  same  fish,  go 
through  the  same  motions,  about  one  hundred  yards 
from  the  spot  where  I  first  saw  him.  The  habit  of 
coming  to  the  surface  to  discharge  air  seems  to  be  com- 
mon to  them,  but  in  the  few  instances  that  I  have  seen 
there  was  no  sound  made  at  the  same  time,  so  far  as  I 
could  determine. 


CHAPTEE  XXXYII. 

TRACES    OF   VOICES    IN   FISHES. 

IN  Pescliel's  volume  on  "  The  Kaces  of  Man,"  I  find 
the  following  paragraph,  and  it  seems  a  fitting  text  where- 
with to  preface  a  few  remarks  on  the  subject  of  indica- 
tions of  voice  in  some  of  our  fishes.  He  says :  "  If  speech 
be  but  the  means  of  communicating  emotions  or  inten- 
tions to  other  beings,  even  invertebrate  animals  possess 
faculties  of  the  same  nature.  We  see  insects,  such  as 
ants,  which  live  in  so-called  communities,  carrying  out 
elaborately  preconcerted  warlike  undertakings  and  attacks. 
A  beetle,  which  in  rolling  the  ball  of  dung  inclosing  its 
egg  has  allowed  it  to  slip  into  a  hole  from  which  it  is  un- 
able to  extricate  it,  flies  away,  to  return  in  a  short  time 
with  a  number  of  assistants  sufficient  to  push  the  ball  up 
the  sides  of  the  declivity  by  co-operation  of  labor.  These 
creatures  must,  therefore,  unquestionably  possess  some 
means  of  communicating  with  each  other  concerning  this 
combination.  It  requires  no  long  observation  of  our  song* 
birds  to  distinguish  the  different  tones  by  which  they 
warn  their  young  of  danger,  or  call  them  to  feed,  or  by 
which  they  attract  each,  other  to  pair.  These  animals, 
therefore,  have  at  their  control  a  certain  number  of  sig- 
nals which  are  quite  adequate  to  procure  for  them  some 
few  of  the  wants  of  their  life,  and  these  signals,  as  far  as 
we  can  at  present  guess,  have  been  acquired  and  inherited 
in  the  same  manner  as  were  their  instincts." 

19 


434  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Although  we  are  all  familiar  with  the  lazy  drum-fish 
of  our  coast — and  some  may  have  heard  those  grunting 
sounds  that  have  given  this  species  its  common  name — 
the  little  fishes  of  our  inland  brooks  and  the  more  preten- 
tious denizens  of  our  rivers  are  looked  upon  as  voiceless 
creatures,  so  that  if  they  have  ideas,  they  must  express 
them  by  movements  entirely,  not  of  one  portion,  but  of 
the  whole  body.  In  fact,  however,  the  conditions  that 
obtain  among  insects  and  birds,  as  mentioned  in  the  quo- 
tation from  Dr.  Peschel,  are,  in  a  measure,  applicable  to 
some  of  our  fishes  ;  at  least,  in  my  studies  of  the  habits 
of  our  more  common  species,  I  have  been  led  to  believe 
that  certain  sounds  made  by  these  fishes  are  really  vocal 
efforts,  and  that  their  utterance  is  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
pressing an  idea ;  and,  furthermore,  I  am  of  the  opinion 
that  these  sounds  are  closely  connected  with  their  breed- 
ing habits,  although  I  have  heard  them  at  other  seasons. 

Probably  no  one  has  failed  to  notice  the  brilliant  col- 
ors of  the  restless  red-fin,  as  it  darts  to  and  fro  through 
the  clear  waters  of  a  crystal  brook,  or  the  bright  orange- 
tinted  fins  of  the  silvery  roach,  that  ere  summer  has 
passed  pale  to  dull  yellow  and  lose  all  their  glow ;  but 
while  with  all  our  fishes  there  is  at  one  time  of  the  year 
a  deepening  of  every  tint,  this  is  in  no  wise  comparable 
to  the  gorgeous  hues  Nature  has  vouchsafed  to  a  certain 
few.  My  studies  of  the  habits  of  these  common  fishes 
have  led  me  to  think  that  the  bright  colors  of  spring-time, 
which  are  analogous  to  the  breeding  plumage  of  male 
birds,  might  possibly  bear  the  same  relationship  to  vocal 
sounds  that  the  songs  and  plumage  of  birds  do  to  each 
other.  With  but  few  exceptions,  our  finest  songsters  are 
dull-colored  birds.  Have  our  plainer-tinted  fishes  a  com- 
pensation for  this  attraction  of  color  in  the  ability  to  ut- 
ter sounds  ? 


TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES. 


435 


After  several  summers  spent  in  observing  the  breed- 
ing habits  of  these  common  fishes,  I  have  ventured  to 
form  two  tables,  relating  to  the  breeding  habits  and  their 
connection  with  the  color  and  supposed  voice  of  sixteen 
species  of  fresh-water  fishes.  In  the  first  of  these,  I  have 
simply  separated  them  into  bright  and  dull-colored  spe- 
cies ;  the  bright  coloration  referring  to  the  breeding 
dress  or  spring  tinting.  In  the  second  list,  I  have  sepa- 
rated them  according  to  their  supposed  vocal  powers ; 
and  it  will  be  seen  on  comparison  that  a  combination  of 
voice  and  conspicuous  coloring  does  not  occur. 


TABLE  I. 


JSrilliant  Colors. 
Yellow  perch. 
Common  simfish. 
Eiver  sunfish. 
Red-fin. 


Dull  or  Silvery. 
Pirate. 
Mud  sunfish. 
Gizzard  shad. 
Mullet. 
Eel. 

Cat-fish. 
Lamprey. 
Sturgeon. 


TABLE  II. 


Supposed  Vocal  Power. 
Pirate. 
Mud  sunfish. 
Gizzard  shad. 
Mullet. 
Lamprey. 
Cat-fish. 
Eel. 
Sturgeon. 


Voiceless. 
Yellow  perch. 
Common  sunfish. 
River  sunfish. 
Banded  sunfish. 
Chub. 
Roach. 
Red-fin. 
Pike. 
Bill-fish. 


We  have  here  enumerated  four  species  that  are  brill- 
iantly colored,  and  eight  that  are  dull  or  simply  silvery ; 
and  of  the  former,  none  are  believed  to  have  any  voice 


436  RAMBLES  ABOUT  SOME. 

proper,  while  of  the  eight  of  the  right  hand,  all  are  be- 
lieved to  be  so  endowed.  In  the  right-hand  column  of 
Table  II,  it  will  be  noticed  that  among  the  "  voiceless  " 
species  are  included  the  four  highly-colored  fishes  and 
five  others,  all  of  silvery  tints,  which  I  have  carefully 
studied,  and  which  have  no  habit,  so  far  as  I  could  dis- 
cover, that  would  separate  them  from  the  species  that  are 
without  a  voice.  We  can  then  scarcelv  avoid  the  concln- 

w 

sion,  that  with  fishes  as  with  birds  the  brilliantly-colored 
males,  as  a  rule,  are  mostly  if  not  wholly  dependent  on 
their  hues  to  attract  the  females  during  the  amatory  sea- 
son. 

Those  who  may  be  familiar  with  the  common  chub 
will  doubtless  urge,  as  an  exception,  that  the  peculiar 
grunting  sounds  made  by  it  wrhen  taken  from  the  water 
entitle  it  to  a  place  among  the  fishes  that  are  supposed  to 
have  a  voice.  Cope,  in  his  "  Cyprinidae  of  Pennsylvania," 
sajs,  "  When  taken  from  the  water,  it  (the  chub)  utters  a 
chirruping  and  croaking  noise,  more  like  a  voice  than 
any  sound  heard  from  any  other  fresh-water  fish  of  our 
region."  I  have  not,  however,  been  able  to  detect  this 
sound  except  when  removed  from  the  water,  and  as  the 
fish  is  then  out  of  its  proper  element  and  struggling,  it 
may  be  involuntary.  The  deep-bronze  and  golden-green 
tints  of  the  mud  sunfish,  too,  might  be  urged  as  a  case  of 
high  coloration  and  a  sexual  attraction,  and  so  it  should 
be  voiceless ;  but  this  fish,  of  all  those  observed  by  me, 
has  been  the  one  most  frequently  to  utter  sounds  volun- 
tarily when  confined  in  an  aquarium.  I  doubt  not  there 
are  very  many  exceptions,  and  one  great  objection  to  the 
suggestions  I  have  made  is  that  there  probably  is  too  great 
an  array  of  opposing  facts.  But  to  refer  once  more  to 
the  case  of  birds.  Assuming  the  correctness  of  evolution, 
as  I  do,  then,  we  need  go  back  but  a  very  short  period  in 


TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES.  437 

geological  time  to  see  the  numerous  species  of  our  birds 
reduced  to  single  representatives  of  each  genus,  and  even 
far  fewer  of  so-called  genera.  With  the  avifauna  thus 
simplified,  the  differences  that  now  exist  between  our 
somber-hued  songsters  and  the  gayly-colored  songless 
birds  were  more  distinctly  drawn ;  and  this  may  have 
been  true  also  of  our  fishes.  The  vast  influence  brought 
to  bear  upon  all  animals  by  their  surroundings,  and  the 
increasing  struggle  for  existence,  has  evolved  in  later 
times,  and  ever  is  evolving,  innumerable  variations  in  the 
forms  of  life  ;  and  these  changes  have  in  so  great  a  meas- 
ure obscured  the  conditions  that  once  characterized  both 
our  birds  and  fishes,  in  the  matter  of  the  relationship  of 
voice  and  color,  that  what  I  believe  to  have  been  once  a 
well-marked  feature  of  animal  life  is  now  traced  with 
difficulty.  Nevertheless,  the  many  instances  of  apparent 
voice  that  I  have  noticed,  and  their  relationship  to  color, 
induce  me  to  believe  that  what  is  now  scarcely  a  rule, 
perhaps,  among  fishes,  was  once  a  law  that  governed 
them. 

In  studying  these  same  fishes  in  another  phase  of  their 
habits,  we  see  that,  while  all  the  species  enumerated  are 
more  or  less  active  throughout  the  day,  some  of  them 
are  far  more  so  at  night,  and  shun,  if  undisturbed,  the 
glare  of  the  midday  sunshine.  These  partially  if  not 
strictly  nocturnal  species  are  those  that  I  have  considered 
as  having  the  power  to  give  out  or  utter  a  truly  vocal 
sound,  and  they  are  the  more  plainly  colored  species. 
The  brilliant  tints  being  of  little  or  no  use  by  night,  ne- 
cessitates the  diurnal  habits  of  those  fishes  possessing 
them,  while  the  nocturnal  species,  with  a  voice  as  a  com- 
pensation for  the  lack  of  color,  are  enabled  to  carry  on  a 
courtship  in  part  by  its  aid,  which  would  be  of  little  or 
no  use  during  the  day. 


438  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Having  given  an  outline  of  the  conclusions  reached 
on  the  supposed  relationship  of  voice  and  color  among 
certain  of  our  common  fresh-water  fishes,  let  us  consider 
in  detail  the  characteristic  habits  of  two  of  the  best  known 
and  most  widely  differing  species  of  the  lists.  As  repre- 
senting the  voiceless  but  gayly-colored  fishes,  let  us  take 
the  common  suntish,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  equally 
familiar  cat-fish  as  an  instance  of  a  fish  that  has  the  power 
of  uttering  a  sound — that  has  the  rudiments  of  a  voice. 

With  the  bursting  of  the  leaf -buds  and  disappearance 
of  the  ice  from  the  shady  nooks  of  our  quiet  inland 
ponds,  the  gayly-tinted  sunfish,  which  all  winter  long  has 
been  lazily  loafing  in  the  deeper  waters,  polishes  up  his 
old  coat  until  it  looks  as  well  as  new,  and,  coming  boldly 
to  the  sunny  shallows,  he  darts  restlessly  about,  an  object 
of  admiration  to  himself,  and,  what  is  of  more  importance, 
to  others  as  well,  and  before  the  flowers  of  May  have 
faded  he  has  succeeded  in  getting  a  mate.  But  the 
courtship  of  this  gaudy  fish  has  been  no  easy  matter. 
Hundreds  of  his  kind,  as  bright  as  he,  have,  like  him, 
striven  by  the  hour  to  clear  the  field  of  every  rival ;  and 
the  clear  waters  are  often  turbid  with  sand  and  grass  torn 
from  the  bed  of  the  stream,  as  the  older  males  chase  each 
other  Lfrom  point  to  point,  endeavoring  by  a  successful 
snap  to  mutilate  each  other's  fins.  No  courtship  battles 
among  birds  are  more  earnestly  fought,  and  as  the  bird 
with  bedraggled  feathers  is  wise  enough  to  withdraw 
from  the  contest  and  quietly  seek  a  mate  when  his  soiled 
plumage  is  in  part  restored,  so  the  sunfish  with  torn 
fins  retires  from  the  contested  nesting- ground.  But  not 
a  sound  has  been  made  by  these  excited  fishes  except  that 
of  the  rippling  water  when  cut  by  their  spiny  fins  as  they 
chanced  to  reach  above  the  surface.  Never,  when  for  a 
moment  quiet,  have  I  chanced  to  see  the  delicate  chain 


TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES.  439 

of  silvery  bubbles  that  escape  from  the  mouth  of  the 
mud  sunfish  when,  shall  I  say,  calling  to  its  mate.  At 
night,  I  believe,  the  sunfish  rests  from  his  labors.  I 
have  not  been  able  to  detect  any  of  his  spring-time  vivaci- 
ty after  sunset,  and  hence  I  am  led 'to  conclude  that  his 
sole  dependence  in  securing  a  mate  is  in  his  brilliant 
coloring. 

What  a  contrast  is  presented  in  the  lazy,  dull-colored 
cat-fish  that  slowly  wanders  over  the  muddy  bed  of  the 
stream  ;  if  perchance  he  is  moving  about  at  all  during  the 
day !  Not  a  motion  can  be  detected  that  is  not  referable, 
without  doubt,  to  so  prosaic  a  matter  as  the  search  for 
food.  If  a  dozen  or  more  come  together,  it  is  but  to 
hunt  in  concert,  and  nothing  of  the  nature  of  a  contest  is 
to  be  seen.  But  after  sunset  every  one  of  them  becomes 
suddenly  more  animated,  and  there  is  a  marked  restless- 
ness in  every  movement,  as  they  congregate  in  large  num- 
bers in  some  limited  area.  At  such  a  time,  their  presence 
is  to  be  detected  not  only  by  the  aid  of  submarine  lan- 
terns, and  all  the  troublesome  helps  that  one  must  employ 
to  study  fishes  at  night,  but  there  is  an  opportunity  given 
to  use  the  ears  as  well  as  eyes,  and  by  careful,  patient 
watching  and  waiting  we  may  hear,  even  from  the  deeper 
waters,  a  gentle  humming  sound  which,  if  noticed  at  all, 
would  by  most  people  be  referred  to  the  insect-life  teem- 
ing about  them.  If,  knowing  or  suspecting  the  true  origin 
of  this  gentle  murmur,  we  can,  without  alarming  the  fish, 
float  our  boat  directly  above  them,  we  will  find  that  scores 
of  chains  of  little  air-bubbles  are  rising  to  the  surface ;  and 
as  the  sound  increases  or  dies  away,  in  proportion  to  the 
abundance  or  absence  of  the  bubbles,  it  is  safe  to  refer  it 
to  the  fishes,  which  produce  it  by  voluntarily  expelling 
the  air  from  their  bodies. 

I  have  not  the  space  here  to  enumerate  all  the  cir- 


440  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

cumstances  connected  with  these  supposed  voluntary 
emissions  of  sound  by  certain  of  our  fishes,  eight  species 
of  which  I  have  particularly  mentioned.  Brief  references 
to  the  others  must  here  suffice.  Concerning  the  first 
mentioned  of  our  little  list,  the  spineless  perch  or  pirate, 
my  knowledge  has  been  largely  derived  from  aquarial 
studies ;  and  although  the  diminutive  size  of  the  largest 
specimens  obtained  renders  it  difficult  to  ascertain  whether 
the  sound  accompanied  the  expulsion  of  air  from  their 
bodies,  I  have  always  felt  quite  sure  that  I  detected  it, 
and  the  actions  of  the  fish,  when  the  sexes  were  separated 
by  fine  sieving  in  the  aquarium,  were  such  as  to  make  it 
highly  probable  that  there  was  a  sound  made  by  the  male 
fish  which  was  heard  by  the  females. 

Of  the  percoid  which  I  have  called  the  "  mud  sun- 
fish  "  there  is  no  doubt.  Not  only  in  the  muddy  brooks 
where  it  is  mostly  found,  but  also  when  confined  in  an 
aquarium,  this  fish  will  utter  at  times  a  deep  grunting 
sound  that  can  not  be  mistaken.  That  it  is  voluntary, 
too,  is  evident  from  the  quick,  nervous  movement  of  the 
whole  body,  and  the  wide  distention  of  the  gill-covers  that 
accompanies  the  act.  These  sounds,  and  those  made  by 
the  cat-fish,  first  called  my  attention  to  the  subject  of 
voluntary  production  of  sound  or  "  voice  "  in  fishes.  Like 
the  spineless  perch,  this  sunfish  is,  I  think,  strictly  noc- 
turnal in  its  habits,  and,  from  aquarial  observations,  I  am 
led  to  believe  that  it  chooses  a  mate,  and  accompanies 
her  to  the  nest  for  ovipositing  only  at  night. 

Of  that  interesting  fish,  the  landlocked  gizzard-shad, 
my  observations  have  led  to  the  detection  of  a  very  audi- 
ble whirring  sound,  not  unlike  the  deeper  notes  of  a 
coarse  string  of  an  seolian  harp.  Others  of  the  herring 
tribe,  and  particularly  our  shad,  have  likewise  the  power 
of  emitting  sounds  that  are  distinctly  audible,  and  vary 


TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES.  441 

but  little  from  that  described  as  uttered  by  the  gizzard- 
shad.  Those  who  may  have  noticed  the  vibrating  noise 
made  by  the  wind  passing  by  a  number  of  telegraph 
wires,  will  have  heard  a  sound  nearly  identical.  I  judge 
that  both  sexes  utter  this  sound  in  concert ;  but  it  may 
be  that  during  the  early  spring  the  sexes  separate,  to  come 
together  again  some  time  later  when  spawning  com- 
mences, and,  in  such  a  case,  that  only  the  males  "  sing." 
This,  however,  is  scarcely  probable  in  the  case  of  a  non- 
migratory,  land-locked  species. 

The  mullet  or  chub-sucker  is  another  example  of  those 
dull-colored,  nocturnal  fishes  that  frequent  streams  with 
muddy  beds  thickly  overgrown  with  water-plants,  and 
which  have  the  power  of  audibly  forcing  air  from  their 
bodies.  In  April,  with  a  noticeable  deepening  of  their 
coloration,  there  is  increased  activity  in  every  movement, 
and,  wholly  unlike  their  actions  by  day,  at  night  they 
swim  quite  near  the  surface,  and  utter  a  single  prolonged 
note,  accompanied  by  a  discharge  of  air  bubbles.  They 
appear  to  project  their  jaws  just  above  the  water,  and 
force  the  air  from  beneath  their  gill-covers  immediately 
below  the  surface,  as  there  are  two  parallel  streams  of 
bubbles.  When  seen  in  the  moonlight,  these  bubbles 
appear  like  minute  silver  beads.  Swimming  in  this  way, 
the  mullet  will  often  proceed  a  hundred  yards,  uttering 
their  peculiar  "  call "  four  or  five  times  while  passing 
over  that  distance. 

In  the  lamprey  we  have  a  semi-nocturnal  species  that 
I  have  had  but  few  opportunities  of  observing  closely,  as 
it  frequents  rapidly-running  water,  and  spends  much  the 
greater  portion  of  its  time  under  flat  stones.  On  two 
occasions  I  have  watched  them,  when  mated,  and  thought 
that  they  uttered  a  peculiar  sound,  quite  unlike  any  other 
"  fish-note  "  I  had  heard  ;  but  it  was  unaccompanied,  so 


442  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

far  as  I  could  determine,  by  a  chain  of  air-bubbles  rising 
to  the  surface,  as  is  always  seen  to  accompany  the  sound 
uttered  by  the  chub-sucker  or  cat-fish.  This  same  noise, 
or  one  very  similar,  was  made  by  them  when  captured 
and  taken  from  the  water,  and  in  both  instances  may 
have  been  involuntary.  From  their  peculiar  anatomy 
they  are  an  exceedingly  interesting  species  with  reference 
to  the  subject  of  voice ;  and  I  regret  that  my  experience 
when  keeping  them  in  an  aquarium  did  not  confirm  my 
suspicions  when  studying  them  in  their  proper  habitat. 
When  my  lampreys  were  in  an  aquarium,  I  occasionally 
heard  a  prolonged  buzzing  sound  that  had  many  charac- 
teristics of  what  I  have  considered  voice  in  other  species, 
but  it  wras  too  monotonous  and  protracted  to  be  consid- 
ered a  voluntarily  produced  sound  or  vocal  effort.  If 
the  more  voice-like  sounds  heard,  as  mentioned,  are  char- 
acteristic of  their  breeding  season,  then  it  probably  is 
strictly  a  "  love-call,"  and  certainly,  when  mated,  these 
fishes  are  very  amorous. 

In  all  the  instances  so  far  mentioned,  of  voluntarily 
expressed  sounds  or  utterances  of  fishes,  they  have  been 
referred  to  in  connection  with  their  ordinary  breeding 
habits  ;  not  that  they  are  never  heard  at  other  times,  but 
because  these  "calls"  or  "songs,"  or  whatever  they 
should  be  considered,  are  a  marked  feature  of  that  sea- 
son. In  our  common  eel  we  have  an  instance  of  a  fish 
possessing  unmistakable  evidences  of  voice,  yet  which 
may  be  said  to  have  no  breeding  season,  at  least  when 
found  far  inland.  Without  inquiring  into  the  particulars 
of  the  recently  ascertained  breeding  habits  of  the  eel,  it 
is  sufficient  here  to  say  that,  in  countless  thousands,  they 
pass  from  the  sea  up  our  rivers,  through  the  most  insignifi- 
cant inland  brooks  and  often  into  isolated  ponds.  From 
these  ponds  they  seldom  wander,  although  not  nccessa- 


TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES.  443 

rily  prisoners,  even  if  direct  water  connection  is  broken. 
In  these  ponds  they  grow  to  a  large  size  and  live  to  a 
great  age  ;  yet  summer  after  summer  passes  without  any 
indication  of  their  breeding.  !No  species  of  fresh- water 
fish  is  more  strictly  nocturnal  in  its  habits,  and  none  are 
so  easily  studied,  inasmuch  as  at  night  they  are  not  only 
very  active,  but  keep  continually  near  the  surface.  In 
the  matter  of  voice,  eels  utter  a  more  distinctly  musical 
sound  than  any  other  of  the  fish  I  have  mentioned.  It 
is  a  single  note,  frequently  repeated,  ,and  has  a  slight 
metallic  resonance.  I  have  heard  this  sound  only  at 
night,  and  never  when  they  are  taken  from  the  water  by 
day,  as  when  captured  by  a  hook,  so  that  I  presume  it  is 
not  involuntary.  When  a  large  number  of  eels  are  con- 
gregated in  a  small  space,  as  when  feeding  on  some  dead 
animal,  I  have  heard  this  note  very  frequently  repeated, 
and  from  the  volume  of  sound  1  judge  that  large  eels 
only  utter  a  note  that  is  distinctly  audible.  It  is  well 
known  that  this  fish  occasionally  leaves  the  water  volun- 
tarily and  wanders  a  considerable  distance  to  other  streams 
or  ponds  ;  and  when  through  protracted  droughts  a  pond 
becomes  quite  dry,  while  other  fishes  perish,  the  eels 
suffer  little  inconvenience,  as,  snake-like,  they  crawl  at 
night  over  a  considerable  stretch  of  land,  guided  by  some 
undetermined  sense  to  the  nearest  water.  At  such  times 
the  eel  will  occasionally  utter  this  same  clear  note,  espe- 
cially if  surprised.  From  what  I  have  been  able  to  de- 
termine concerning  these  overland  journeys,  they  are 
undertaken  only  when  the  grass  is  well  moistened  with 
dew,  and  a  surface  of  any  extent  devoid  of  thick  vege- 
tation is  an  effectual  barrier  to  their  progress.  I  would 
add  that  I  have  noticed,  when  "bobbing"  for  eels,  or 
catching  them  in  a  manner  that  inflicts  no  injury  to  their 
mouths,  that  when  squirming  about  the  bottom  of  the 


4A4:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

boat  they  not  ^infrequently  utter  tins  same  sound,  not 
inaptly  compared,  perhaps,  to  the  faint  squeak  of  a 
mouse. 

I  have  given  one  instance,  that  of  the  common  sun- 
fish,  of  a  fish  that  is  strictly  a  diurnal  species,  of  bright 
coloration,  and  that  passes  through  the  various  phases  of 
courtship  and  nidification  without  uttering  a  sound  ;  and 
on  the  other  hand,  more  or  less  in  detail,  referred  to  sev- 
eral other  fishes  that  are  all  of  dull  coloration,  are  noc- 
turnal in  their  habits,  and,  whether  voluntarily  or  not, 
certainly  at  times  do  utter  sounds.  They  can  not  be 
considered  as  simply  making  such  a  noise  as  would 
result  from  certain  muscular  movements.  The  action 
that  produces  the  sound,  on  the  contrary,  I  have  been 
led  to  believe  is  intentionally  performed  in  order  that  the 
sound  may  result,  and  the  fish  intends  it  as  a  call,  which 
is  responded  to  by  those  hearing  it,  and  for  whom  it  was 
intended. 

When  we  carefully  study  the  entire  ichthyic  fauna  of 
a  given  locality,  say  of  a  given  stream,  as  I  have  done  in 
this  case,  there  will  undoubtedly  be  found  some  excep- 
tions to  this  supposed  rule  of  dissociation  of  coloration 
and  voice  ;  but  these  may  be  less  in  number  than  appear 
to  us,  when  we  consider  how  many  species  are  found  in 
every  stream  that  are  so  diminutive  that  it  can  not  be 
determined  to  which  class  they  really  belong.  Thus, 
while  many  are  dull-colored  and  doubtless  possess  voice, 
it  is  too  faint  for  us  to  hear;  but,  from  the -fact  that  this 
peculiarity  can  be  determined  in  some  of  the  larger  spe- 
cies, it  is  not  improbable  that  in  earlier  geological  eras 
fishes  generally  were  of  somber  tints,  and  possessed  more 
marked  vocal  powers  than  at  present,  and  that,  in  the 
subsequent  differentiation  of  genera  and  species,  color 
was  more  and  more  evolved  as  a  generic  character,  and 


TRACES  OF  VOICES  IN  FISHES.  445 

voice  became  proportionately  less  a  feature  of  our  fishes, 
but  was  retained  in  some,  and  reappears  in  still  stronger 
development  in  those  connecting  links  between  fishes  and 
higher  vertebrates,  culminating  in  the  batrachians,  where 
it  is  perfected  by  the  presence  of  a  larynx. 

Professor  J.  C.  Galton  has,  in  the  "Popular  Science 
Review  "  for  October,  1874,  most  scientifically  discussed 
this  whole  subject,  and  a  brief  quotation  from  his  able 
paper  is  a  fit  ending  to  my  scanty  notes  on  this  most  in- 
teresting phase  of  animal  life.  He  writes :  "  Not  only  is 
there  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  majority  of  sounds 
produced  by  fishes  are  not  casual  utterances,  but  are  truly 
voluntary,  but  there  is  among  such  as  give  vent  to  them 
a  most  remarkable  development  of  the  organs  of  hearing 
in  all  essential  particulars,  for  example,  in  the  semicir- 
cular canals,  otoliths  and  nerves,  correlative  with  the 
degree  of  perfection  of  the  instrument.  Further  than 
this,  as  the  sounds  generally  excel  in  frequency  and  in- 
tensity at  the  breeding  season,  it  will  not  be  unreasonable 
to  regard  them — granting,  as  we  do,  that  the  chirp  of  the 
cricket  and  the  croak  of  the  frog  is  each  in  its  way  an 
alluring  serenade — as  nuptial  hymns,  or,  to  use  language 
ascribed  to  Plutarch,  as  '  deafening  epithalamia.'  More 
than  this :  seeing  that  the  carp,  and  others  of  the  same 
family,  have  given  unmistakable  proofs  of  their  aptitude 
to  receive  some  rudiments  of  education,  and  in  particular 
to  perceive  certain  sounds,  it  can  yet  be  possible  that  the 
moral  admonitions  of  a  St.  Anthony  of  Padua — by  many 
still  regarded  as  a  work  of  supererogation — may,  no  less 
than  the  amorous  twang  of  the  vesical  zither,  after  all 
not  have  fallen  upon  totally  deaf  ears." 


APPENDIX. 


LIST  OF  THE  MAMMALS,  BIRDS,  REPTILES,  BATRACHIANS, 
AND  FISHES  OF  MERCER  COUNTY,  NEW  JERSEY. 

MAMMALS. 

Wild-Cat.     Lynx  rufus. 

Occasional.  At  the  time  of  the  settlement  of  this  neighborhood 
by  European  colonists,  wild-cats  were  very  abundant,  as  the  refer- 
ences thereto  by  early  writers  indicate.  A  century  later  they  were 
not  abundant  except  at  long  distances  from  the  settlements.  Kalm 
(1749)  refers  to  them  as  common  to  the  mountainous  regions  up  the 
valley  of  the  Delaware.  Referring  to  the  abundance  of  deer  in 
that  region,  he  remarks :  "  Among  their  enemies  is  the  Lynx  of  this 
country  (New  Jersey).  .  .  .  They  climb  up  the  trees,  and,  when 
the  stags  pass  by,  they  dart  down  upon  him,  get  fast  hold,  bite,  and 
suck  the  blood,  and  never  give  over  till  they  have  killed  it."  In 
what  is  now  Sussex  County,  New  Jersey,  and  Pike  County,  Penn- 
sylvania, on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  wild-cats  are  still  to  be 
found,  but  are  by  no  means  abundant. 

The  domestic  cat  returns  to  a  feral  state  much  more  commonly 
than  is  supposed,  and  the  offspring  of  such  cats  are  noticeably 
larger,  fiercer,  and  more  active  than  any  tame  cats  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  I  am  even  strongly  inclined  to  believe,  but  will  not  be  posi- 
tive, that  the  offspring  in  the  third  generation  are  always  of  a  uni- 
form blue- gray  color. 

These  domestic  cats  "  run  wild,"  and  their  offspring  are  quite  as 
arboreal  as  the  true  Lynx  rvfus. 

Weasel.     Putorius  vulgar  is. 

Common.  This  species  is  also  known  as  the  "  little  weasel "  by 
those  who  can  distinguish  it  from  the  following. 


448  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Weasel.     Putorius  ermineus. 

Common.  I  have  recently  learned  of  several  instances  where 
weasels  have  taken  up  their  abodes  in  the  cellars  of  houses  situated 
on  the  outskirts  of  towns.  While  unable  to  climb  as  readily  as  can 
the  rat,  the  weasel  will,  when  once  established  where  rats  are  abun- 
dant, either  destroy  them  or  frighten  them  away.  The  same  is  true 
of  them  in  the  country ;  and  I  doubt  if  the  farmer  is  not  profited 
more  by  the  lessening  of  the  numbers  of  rats  and  mice  than  he 
loses,  on  the  other  hand,  by  the  destruction  of  a  few  chickens  in  the 
course  of  a  year. 

Mink.     Putorius  vison. 
Skunk.     Mepliitis  mephitica. 

Otter.     Lutra  Canadensis. 

In  some  localities,  even  though  thickly  settled,  otters  seem  to  be 
increasing  in  numbers.  During  the  summer  the  dense  vegetation 
affords  them  sufficient  cover,  and,  being  exceedingly  cunning,  they 
are  able  to  baffle  pursuers,  whether  men  or  dogs.  In  the  winter, 
however,  the  odds  appear  to  be  against  them,  and  quite  a  number 
are  reported  as  trapped  or  shot  during  this  time  of  year. 

Raccoon.     Procyon  lotor. 

This  animal  is  still  found  in  the  more  unsettled  parts  of  the 
county,  but  can  not  be  said  to  be  anywhere  abundant.  It  is  noc- 
turnal in  habit,  and  cunning  enough  to  keep  away  from  dogs ;  and 
so  often  lives  for  months  near  a  farm-house  without  its  presence 
being  suspected. 

Little  Brown  Bat.      Vespertilio  subulatus. 
Silvery  Bat.      Vespertilio  noctivagans. 
Carolina  Bat.      Vespertilio  fuscus. 

Little  Red  Bat.     Atalapha  Novceboracensis. 

The  last  of  this  series  of  bats  is  by  far  the  most  abundant,  and, 
unlike  the  others,  is  less  sensitive  to  changes  of  weather.  It  is  the 
latest  to  disappear  on  the  approach  of  winter ;  often  flies  at  noon- 
day, in  midwinter,  if  the  day  is  warm  and  not  too  bright ;  and  the 
earliest  to  appear  in  spring. 

Mole.     Scalops  aquaticus. 

My  observations  of  this  animal  lead  me  to  believe  that  the  specific 


APPENDIX.  449 

name  of  "aquations"  is  essentially  inappropriate.  With  ns,  the 
animal  is  confined  to  the  highest  and  driest  of  our  upland  fields,  and 
appears  to  have  a  decided  aversion  even  to  damp  soils. 

Hairy-tailed  Mole.     Scapanus  Breweri. 

This  species  is  far  less  common  than  the  preceding,  and  of  late 
years  I  have  seen  no  specimens  of  it. 

Star-nosed  Mole.     Condylura  cristata. 

This  curious  animal  is  essentially  an  aquatic  species,  as  observed 
by  me.  It  frequents  only  the  low,  wet  meadows,  in  which  it  bur- 
rows as  extensively  as  the  scalops  does  in  the  upland.  I  have  occa- 
sionally found  openings  to  its  burrows  beneath  the  surface  of  the 
water,  and  know,  from  recent  observation,  that  the  animal  is  an 
excellent  swimmer. 

I  am  convinced  that  this  species  hibernates,  and  often  the  mead- 
ows in  which  its  winter  nests  are  situated  are  covered  with  water 
for  from  two  to  four  days  at  a  time.  Such  periods  of  submergence 
do  not  appear  to  affect  the  hibernating  moles  in  any  way ;  but  a  sum- 
mer freshet  of  like  duration  invariably  proves  fatal  to  great  numbers 
of  them. 
Shrew.  Blarina  ~brevicauda. 

The  statement  made  in  the  body  of  the  book,  that  I  have  never 
found  a  shrew  near  home,  no  longer  holds  good;  but  I  let  it  stand, 
for  the  fact  that  I  have  recently  seen  and  captured  a  specimen  is  all 
that  I  can  say.  On  the  10th  of  August,  1883,  my  son  brought  me  a 
dead  shrew  which  he  had  found,  and  on  the  30th  of  September  fol- 
lowing, while  listening  to  the  rose-breasted  grosbeaks  that  were 
singing  in  the  woods  near  by,  I  saw  a  small  mammal  leap  by  me. 
Its  movements  were  not  like  those  of  a  mouse,  and  I  gave  chase. 
It  endeavored  to  hide  in  the  heaps  of  loose  dead  leaves,  but  was 
easily  captured.  It  proved  to  be  a  short-tailed  shrew,  and  is  the 
only  living  specimen  I  have  ever  seen. 

Flying  Squirrel.     Sciuropterus  volucella. 

I  have  recently  had  my  attention  called  to  the  small  size  of  the 
flying  squirrels  found  here,  as  compared  with  the  dimensions  given 
by  Audubon  and  Bachman,  Godman,  and  others.  It  would  certainly 
seem  as  if  they  had  shrunken  considerably  during  the  past  fifty 
years.  Is  this  due  to  the  fact  that  food  is  less  abundant  and  the  en- 
vironment less  favorable  ? 


450  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Gray  Squirrel.     Sciurus  Carolinensis. 

It  is  but  very  seldom  that  a  black  squirrel  is  now  seen  in  this 
neighborhood,  but  formerly  they  were  very  common.  Family  papers 
in  my  possession,  dating  back  a  century  and  a  half  ago,  refer  to 
"damages  to  crops  caused  by  troops  of  great  black  squirrels." 

Red  Squirrel.     Sciurus  Hudsonius. 

The  general  destruction  of  heavy  growths  of  timber  has  caused 
this  destructive  squirrel  to  become  comparatively  scarce.  They  arc 
often  more  abundant,  however,  than  we  suppose.  This  fact  was 
forcibly  brought  to  my  attention  during  the  past  summer,  when  a 
pair  of  them  were  found  nesting  in  a  hollow  locust-tree  within  ten 
steps  of  my  front  door.  These  squirrels  had  evidently  been  several 
weeks  in  this  tree,  yet  no  one  had  seen  them.  Subsequent  observa- 
tions revealed  the  fact  that  this  particular  pair  were  essentially  cre- 
puscular in  their  habits,  and  even  in  the  gloaming,  when  they 
chanced  to  go  abroad,  their  movements  were  exceedingly  stealthy 
until  they  felt  that  they  were  well  out  of  sight  and  hearing.  Did 
not  these  squirrels  realize  the  danger  of  living  so  near  an  occupied 
house,  and  act  with  unusual  caution  in  consequence  of  such  fear?  I 
think  so. 

Chipmunk.     Tamias  striatus. 

This  common  mammal  appears  to  be  increasing  in  numbers. 

"Woodchuck.     Arctomys  monax. 

Although  so  common  in  most  localities,  few  are  found  in  Mercer 
County. 

Jumping  Mouse.    Zapus  Hudsonius. 

While  probably  the  fact  that  this  species  is  strictly  nocturnal 
makes  it  appear  less  abundant  than  it  really  is,  still  it  is  certainly 
nowhere  to  be  found  in  great  numbers.  I  think  no  one  will  be 
likely  to  find  more  than  one  or  two  pairs  during  a  summer,  although 
Dr.  Godman  remarks  that  "  it  breeds  very  fast,  and  may  occasion- 
ally become  injurious  to  the  farmer." 

White-footed  Mouse.     Hesperomys  leucopus. 

Albinism  is  quite  common  with  this  species,  both  partial  and 
complete. 

Meadow  Mouse.     Arvicola  riparius. 

That  there  are  two  or  three  species  of  so-called  mice,  other  than 


APPENDIX.  451 

the  above,  found  in  this  neighborhood,  is  highly  probable ;  but,  as 
stated  in  the  body  of  the  work,  I  have  not  been  able  to  identify 
them. 

Muskrat.     Fiber  zibetJiicus. 

Kalm  mentions  the  well-known  habit  of  the  muskrat,  of  eating 
the  ordinary  river  mussels  (unios),  and  intimates  their  depending 
largely  upon  them  for  food.  Godman  does  not  refer  to  this,  but 
states  that  their  food  is  wholly  vegetable  matter ;  adding,  u  It  has 
been  imagined  that  this  animal  feeds  also  upon  fish  ...  an 
opinion  which  the  structure  of  the  teeth,  stomach,  and  intestines 
sufficiently  contradict."  De  Kay,  on  the  other  hand,  says,  "  It  is 
also  extremely  fond  of  the  fresh-water  mussel  {unio),  heaps  of 
which,  in  a  gnawed  and  comminuted  state,  may«be  found  near  their 
retreats.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  muskrat  not  only  consumes  quan- 
tities of  mussels,  but  other  animal  matter  whenever  it  can  be  ob- 
tained. I  have  knowledge  of  their  seizing  ducklings  and  dragging 
them  to  their  burrows,  and  have  seen  them  in  a  mill-pond  quarrel- 
ing over  the  remains  of  a  dog  that  had  been  drowned." 

Eabbit.     Lepus  sylvaticus. 

Of  the  few  mammals  of  considerable  size  still  to  be  found  in 
long-settled  neighborhoods,  the  rabbits  seem  best  to  have  withstood 
the  encroachments  of  man  upon  their  haunts  and  the  persecution 
of  a  host  of  enemies.  They  are  probably  as  abundant  as  a  century 
ago,  benefiting  more  by  the  destruction  of  their  natural  enemies, 
than  suffering  from  the  persecution  of  man  and  dogs. 

Opossum.     Didelphis  Virginiana. 

During  the  past  three  or  four  years  these  animals  have  increased 
quite  rapidly  in  numbers,  and  become  less  wary,  or  at  least  frequent 
localities  that  are  less  well  adapted  to  shield  them  by  day  than  are 
their  usual  woodland  haunts.  As  an  article  of  food  they  are  highly 
prized  by  many  ;  but  their  merits  as  such  seem  to  me  largely  over- 
stated. While  not  disposed  to  regularly  hibernate,  they  can  sleep  for 
weeks  without  food. 

BIRDS. 

Dr.  William  P.  Turnbull,  in  preparing  his  classical 
"  Birds  of  East  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey,"  *  remarks 

*  "  The  Birds  of  East  Pennsylvania  and  New  Jersey."  By  William  P. 
turnbull,  LL.  D.  Glasgow  :  Printed  for  private  circulation.  1869,  4to. 


452  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

in  his  preface  :  "  From  the  geographical  position  of  the 
district  it  is  particularly  favorable  for  observation,  being 
the  resort,  at  some  period  of  the  year,  of  a  large  proportion 
of  the  birds  of  this  continent;  and,  from  the  fact  of  its 
being  the  temporary  resting-place  of  most  of  the  migratory 
birds,  there  is  probably  no  district  of  the  same  extent  in 
this  country  that  is  frequented  by  sifch  a  number  of  species. 
A  considerable  number  of  our  summer  visitants  from  the 
Gulf  States  and  Mexico  appear  to  make  it  their  northern 
limit,  while  other  flocks  remain  only  a  short  period  in  spring, 
and  migrate  still  further  north,  penetrating  as  far  as  British 
America  to  breed  ;  and  these  again  arrive  in  autumn  on 
their  return  journey  to  their  winter  retreats.  It  may  like- 
wise be  noted  that  the  district  is  the  southern  limit  of  many 
species  which  breed  at  Hudson's  Bay  and  the  fur  countries, 
and  pass  the  winter  on  the  Delaware  and  Chesapeake,  thus 
forming  a  line  of  separation,  so  to  speak,  for  the  migratory 
flights  of  many  interesting  birds  coming  from  opposite  di- 
rections. 

"  On  consulting  the  list,  however,  it  will  be  remarked 
that  the  proportion  of  what  may  be  considered  resident 
birds  is  small.  This  fact  seems  to  have  attracted  observa- 
tion as  far  back  as  the  time  of  Dr.  Benjamin  S.  Barton, 
who  published  a  work,  entitled  '  Fragments  of  Natural 
History,'  about  seventy  years  ago,  in  which  it  is  stated 
that,  in  the  district  now  spoken  of,  very  few  species  remain 
all  the  year,  and  that  even  of  these  there  appeared  to  have 
been  a  partial  migration  in  'severe  winters  ;  such  birds, 
especially,  as  lived  on  insects  and  small  fruits  being  com- 
pelled to  retire  southward — a  fact  still  noticeable  at  the  pres- 
ent day — many  species  that  usually  migrate  remaining  in 
mild  and  open  winters.  Closer  observation  of  late  years, 
however,  has  enabled  ornithologists  to  affirm  with  certainty 
that,  of  so-called  migratory  birds,  a  greater  number  pass 
the  winter  with  us  than  has  been  hitherto  supposed." 

Elsewhere  in  his  preface  the  author  further  remarks  : 


APPENDIX.  453 

"  The  diffusion  of  well-authenticated  information  regard- 
ing the  distribution  of  American  birds  is  yet  a  matter  for 
future  observation.  There  have  been,  no  doubt,  many  im- 
portant contributions  on  this  subject,  of  late  years,  yet  the 
field  is  so  extensive  that  many  years  must  elapse  before  we 
can  lay  claim  to  a  thorough  knowledge  of  many  important 
particulars,  which  patient  research  and  well-timed  energy 
alone  can  solve.  The  author  of  the  present  little  work, 
while  claiming  for  it  the  merit  of  careful  observation,  ex- 
tending over  a  period  of  several  years,  at  the  same  time 
believes  the  plan  of  the  catalogue  to  be  capable  of  attaining 
more  useful  results  if  enlarged  in  proportion  to  the  nature 
of  the  districts  investigated.  It  is,  therefore,  to  be  hoped 
that  accurate  observers  may  undertake  similar  records,  by 
means  of  which  the  next  great  work  on  the  ornithology  of 
our  country  may  contain  a  better  collection  of  facts,  repre- 
senting the  phenomena  of  the  remoter  districts,  than  has 
yet  been  obtained." 

Believing  that  I  can  best  serve  the  purposes  of  working 
ornithologists  by  closely  following  the  list  given  by  Mr. 
Turnbull  in  his  work,  from  which  I  have  already  so  exten- 
sively quoted,  I  have  in  the  following  pages  practically 
reproduced  that  list,  with  annotations  based  upon  the  ob- 
servations of  the  sixteen  years  which  have  elapsed  since 
Dr.  Turnbull  wrote  his  work.  My  list  of  birds,  that  may 
be  said  to  constitute  the  ornithic  fauna  of  Mercer  County, 
numbers  two  hundred  and  seventeen  species  ;  the  list  given 
by  Dr.  Turnbull  numbers  three  hundred  and  forty-two 
species,  and  is  given  as  the  complete  enumeration  of  the 
birds  of  an  area  many  hundred  times  as  large  as  that  re- 
ferred to  as  the  field  of  my  own  observations.  Of  the  three 
hundred  and  forty-two  species  given  by  Dr.  Turnbull,  fifty- 
nine  are  under  the  heading  of  "  Stragglers  or  Irregular  Vis- 
itants "  ;  which  leaves  us  but  two  hundred  and  eighty-three 
species  as  characteristic  of  the  fauna,  or  properly  belonging 
to  it.  Deducting  eleven  species  from  my  list  of  the  birds 


454:  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

of  Mercer  County,  New  Jersey,  there  remains  a  difference 
only  of  seventy-seven  species  between  those  observed  by 
Dr.  Turnbull  in  "that  part  of  Pennsylvania  eastward  of 
the  Alleghany  Mountains,  and  of  New  Jersey,  including 
the  coast-line,  which  extends  from  Sandy  Hook  to  Cape 
May,"  and  those  that  I  have  seen  in  a  very  limited  portion 
of  the  valley  of  the  Delaware. 

Wood- Thrush.     Turdus  mustelinus. 

Strictly  migratory,  and  sensitive  to  frost.  Arrives  early  in  April, 
if  the  weather  is  warm,  and  remains  until  November.  It  is  more 
irregular  than  any  other  of  our  thrushes. 

Hermit-Thrush.     Turdus  pallasii. 

"  Not  uncommon.  It  arrives  in  April,  and  again  late  in  October 
on  its  way  south,  when  it  is  more  abundant  along  the  sea-coast.  .  .  . 
A  few  have  been  observed  during  winter  when  that  season  lias  been 
open  and  mild  "  (Turnbull).  They  also  remain,  in  scanty  numbers, 
during  summer,  and  breed. 

Olive-backed  Thrush.     Turdus  Swainsonii. 

"  Kare.  It  arrives  in  the  end  of  April.  A  few  also  of  this  spe- 
cies have  been  seen  in  winter  "  (Turnbull).  I  have  not  found  this 
thrush  to  be  at  all  "  rare,"  but  very  irregular  in  its  appearance. 

Wilson's  Thrush.     Turdus  fuscescens. 

Kesident,  or  but  partly  migratory.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  them 
during  the  winter,  if  the  weather  is  mild.  At  such  times  they  seek 
shelter  from  the  wind,  and  congregate  largely  on  wooded  slopes 
having  a  southern  exposure. 

Robin.     Turdus  migratorius. 

This  familiar  sjfecies  is  wandering,  rather  than  migratory.  They 
are  as  abundant  in  January  as  in  June  ;  indeed,  often  much  more  so. 

Brown  Thrush.     IlarporJiyncTius  rufus. 

Migratory.  Often  appears  as  early  as  March  1st.  "  A  few  re- 
main during  mild  winters  "  (Turnbull). 

Mocking-Bird .     Mimus  polyglottus. 

Rare.     A  pair  of  these  birds  have  for  two  years  past  nested  in 


APPENDIX.  455 

the  yard  of  a  neighbor.  "  It  appears  to  have  been  plentiful  in  for- 
mer years,  and,  according  to  Bart  ram  and  Dr.  Barton,  even  re- 
mained all  the  winter  near  Philadelphia  "  (Turnbull). 

Catbird.     Galeoscoptes  Carolinensis. 

Abundant  everywhere.  I  think  it  is  evident  that  a  change  is 
slowly  coming  over  their  migratory  habits.  They  certainly  arrive 
earlier  and  stay  later  than  the  dates  mentioned  by  Wilson,  Audubon, 
or  Nuttall.  Single  birds  have  been  seen  during  the  winter. 

Bluebird.     Sialia  sialis. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  habit  of  this  species,  it  is  now,  in 
no  sense,  migratory. 

Golden-crowned  Knight.     Eegulus  satrapa. 

Not  uncommon.  Seen  both  in  spring  and  autumn  usually ;  but 
also  in  winter,  though  less  frequently.  That  they  breed  in  Northern 
New  Jersey  is  unquestionable. 

Ruby-crowned  Wren.     Eegulus  calendula. 

More  abundant  than  the  preceding,  and  is  identical  in  all  its 
habits.  The  two  are  frequently  associated,  especially  in  mid-winter, 
when  a  flock  of  a  dozen  or  twenty  is  occasionally  met  with. 

Blue-gray  Gnat-catcher.     Polloptila  ccerulea. 

I  have  seldom  met  with  this  species,  which  can  scarcely  be  rec- 
ognized by  a  description  of  its  voice,  quoted  by  Jordan  as  "  like 
a  mouse  with  the  toothache."  It  is  said,  on  the  contrary,  to  be 
really  a  fine  singer.  Dr.  Turnbull  does  not  give  this  species  in  his 
list. 

Tufted  Tit.     Lophophanes  "bicolor. 

Abundant.  "  Especially  abundant  in  summer  "  (Turnbull).  My 
observations  have  led  me  to  conclude  it  was  more  common  in  au- 
tumn and  winter  than  in  summer. 

Black-capped  Tit.     Parus  atricapillus. 

Very  abundant.  During  the  summer  they  are  more  retiring  in 
their  habits  and  stay  more  closely  in  heavily-timbered  areas.  In 
winter  they  at  times  almost  outnumber  the  snow-birds. 

White-bellied  JSTut-Hatch.     Sitta  Carolinensis. 

Common.  While  to  be  found,  on  careful  search,  at  any  time  of 
the  year,  they  are  certainly  more  abundant  during  the  winter. 


456  RAMBLES  AM  OUT  HOME. 

Bed-bellied  Nut-Hatch.     Sitta  Canadensis. 

"  Rather  rare  from  October  to  April  "  (Turnbull).  I  have 
found  it  as  late  as  June,  and  believe  the  species  to  be  resident  to  a 
limited  extent. 

Tree-Creeper.     Certhia  familiar  is. 

"Abundant,  but  more  so  in  winter  than  at  other  times  of  the 
year.  I  can  detect  no  difference  between  it  and  that  of  Europe ;  it 
has  the  same  shrill  but  feeble  note,  and  its  habits  are  identical " 
(Turnbull). 

Carolina  Wren.     Thryothorus  Ludovicianus. 

Within  the  past  few  years  this  magnificent  songster  has  become 
quite  abundant,  and  is  strictly  resident.  According  to  Dr.  Turn- 
bull,  at  the  time  he  wrote  it  was  "  rather  rare.  It  appears  early  in 
May  on  the  borders  of  the  Delaware.  Mr.  John  Cassin  informed 
me  that  he  had  occasionally  seen  this  bird  on  the  Wissahickon  in 
winter." 

Bewick's  "Wren.     Thryothorus  Bewickii. 

Some  years  ago  a  few  pairs  of  these  birds  were  seen  in  my 
neighborhood;  but  they  have  been  replaced  by  the  Carolina  wrens, 
that  appear  to  have  driven  the  others  away. 

House- Wren.     Troglodytes  ccdon. 

Abundant.  Less  sensitive  to  cold  than  formerly—  say,  fifty  years 
ago.  They  arrive  earlier  and  depart  later  than  in  the  time  of  Audu- 
bon  and  Wilson.  I  have  seen  them  as  early  as  April  5th. 

Winter- Wren.     Troglodytes  hy emails. 

Common,  but  not  resident  probably.  The  similarity  in  appear- 
ance to  the  preceding,  and  coming  from  the  north  at  about  the  time 
the  house-wrens  pass  southward,  has  given  the  impression  to  many 
that  the  latter  are  not  migratory. 

Short-billed  Marsh-Wren.     Cistothorus  stellaris. 

"  Rather  rare  from  April  to  September  "  (Turnbull).  I  believe 
that  more  of  these  birds  are  to  be  found  than  is  commonly  sup- 
posed. I  have  found  colonies  of  them  in  certain  limited  tracts  of 
reedy  meadows. 

Long-bi lied  Marsh-Wren .     Clstoth orus  palustris. 
Abundant  in  all  marshy  or  tide-water  meadows. 


APPENDIX.  457 

Horned  Lark.     Eremophila  cornuta. 

"Plentiful ;  appearing  late  in  October  and  generally  leaving  in 
March,  but  some  seasons  it  remains  until  April  "  (Turnbull.)  If  a 
cold  northeaster  occurs  in  September  it  often  brings  these  birds, 
which,  again,  have  been  seen  as  late  as  May  10th. 

Titlark.     Anthus  Ludovicianus. 

"  Common.  It  arrives  from  the  north  in  October,  and  departs 
in  April,  but  is  more  frequent  in  the  autumn  and  spring  migra- 
tions "  (Turnbull). 

Creeping  Warbler.     Mniotilta  varia. 
Abundant  from  April  to  October. 

Blue  Yellow-backed  Warbler.     Parula  Americana. 
Common  from  April  to  October. 

Worm-eating  Warbler.     Helmintherus  vermivorus. 

"  Rather  rare ;  arriving  in  the  middle  of  May  "  (Turnbull). 
During  the  past  ten  years  this  has  been  one  of  our  most  abundant 
species,  and  one  that  reaches  us  as  early  as  the  middle  of  ApriL 

Blue- winged  Yellow  Warbler.     Helminthophaga  pinus. 
Somewhat  rare,  but  variable  in  this  respect. 

Nashville  Warbler.     Helminthophaga  ruficapilla. 

Common.  Often  very  abundant  during  the  autumnal  migration 
of  the  warblers  generally. 

Tennessee  Warbler.     Helminthophaga  peregrina. 

Not  uncommon.  Dr.  Turnbull  speaks  of  it  as  more  common  in 
autumn  than  in  spring. 

Golden-winged  Warbler.     Helminthophaga  chrysoptera, 
Quite  rare,  except  in  certain  summers  when  warblers  of  every 
species  are  unusually  abundant. 

Cape  May  Warbler.     Perissoglossa  tigrina. 

"  Very  rare  ;  it  arrives  early  in  May,  and  again  it  visits  us  on  its 
way  south  about  the  10th  of  October  "  (Turnbull). 

Summer  Warbler.     Dendrceca  cestiva. 
Abundant. 

20 


458  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Black-throated  Blue  Warbler.     Dendrceca  ccerulescens. 
Abundant.    "  A  few  remain  to  breed  "  (Turnbull). 

Myrtle-Bird.     Dendrceca  coronata. 

Abundant.  Yearly  becoming  more  abundant  during  the  winter. 
Even  the  severe  January  of  1884  did  not  drive  them  away.  Several 
specimens  were  seen  that  month. 

Black  and  Yellow  Warbler.     Dendrceca  maculosa. 

"  One  of  our  most  beautiful  warblers,  and  rather  frequent ;  com- 
ing early  in  May,  and  again  in  September  "  (Turnbull). 

Blue  Warbler.     Dendrceca  cc&rulea. 

"Rare.  From  May  to  end  of  August.  The  Blue  Mountain 
warbler  of  Wilson  is  the  young  of  this  species  "  (Turnbull). 

Chestnut-sided  Warbler.     Dendrceca  Pennsylvania. 

"  Not  uncommon.  Arriving  early  in  May.  A  few  remain  to 
breed  "  (Turnbull). 

Black-poll  Warbler.     Dendrceca  striata. 
Common  in  spring  and  autumn. 

Blackburnian  Warbler.     Dendrceca  Blactiburnia. 
Common,  and  tarries  to  breed. 

Bay-breasted  Warbler.     Dendrceca  castanea. 

"Bather  rare,  appearing  late  in  April,  and  again  in  October. 
The  young  bird  of  this  species  is  the  autumnal  warbler  of  Wilson  " 
(Turnbull;. 

Yellow-throated  Warbler.     Dendrceca  dominica. 

Rare.  I  have  seen  but  few  specimens.  This  species  is  not  in 
Dr.  Turnbull's  list. 

Prairie  Warbler.     Dendrceca  discolor. 

Not  uncommon.  Upland  fields,  overgrown  with  rag- weed,  are 
favorite  localities. 

Black-throated  Green  Warbler.     Dendrceca  mrens. 

"  Rather  frequent,  arriving  early  in  May  and  departing  in  Octo- 
ber. It  is  more  plentiful  in  the  spring  and  autumn  migrations  " 
(Turnbull). 


APPENDIX.  459 

Pine-creeping  Warbler.     Dendrosca  pinus. 

"This  species  is  rather  rare  in  spring,  but  plentiful  in  autumn. 
Arriving  early  in  April,  and  again  in  October.  Many  remain  during 
summer  "  (Turnbull). 

This  is  one  of  the  few  species  of  warblers  that  lingers  in  Central 
New  Jersey  long  after  the  severe  frosts  have  set  in.  I  have  seen 
them  as  late  as  December  3d. 

Yellow  Red-poll  Warbler.     Dend rmca  palmarum. 
Abundant,  but  do  not  remain  to  breed. 

Golden -crowned  Thrush.     Siurus  auricapillus. 
Yery  common  in  moist  ground  thick  with  underbrush. 

Water-Wagtail.     Siurus  ncevius. 

Not  as  common  as  the  preceding,  but  during  no  summer  have 
I  found  it  rare. 

Water-Thrush.     /Siurus  motacilla. 

Not  uncommon,  but  probably  the  least  abundant  of  the  three 
species  of  this  genus. 

Connecticut  Warbler.     Oporornis  agilis. 

"  Rather  rare.  This  species  is  very  seldom  met  with  in  spring, 
but  is,  however,  more  frequent  in  autumn,  appearing  late  in  Au- 
gust" (Turnbull). 

During  the  spring  of  1882  and  of  1883,  I  saw  many  specimens  of 
these  birds  during  the  month  of  May. 

Kentucky  Warbler.     Oporornis  formosus. 

"  A  southern  species,  and  rather  scarce.  It  arrives  late  in 
April "  (Turnbull). 

As  has  frequently  happened  during  the  past  decade,  during  cer- 
tain summers,  warblers  of  all  kinds  would  be  phenomenally  abun- 
dant. During  such  I  have  seen  many  of  this  species. 

Maryland  Yellow-Throat.     Geothlypis  trichas. 

A  specimen  of  this  common  warbler  was  seen  on  the  18th  of 
March,  1883.  This  is  unusually  early  for  this  species,  which,  how- 
ever, usually  anticipates  the  arrival,  in  spring,  of  the  warblers  gener- 
ally, by  two  or  three  weeks.  The  specimen  here  mentioned  was 
very  active,  kept  much  to  the  tops  of  the  taller  trees,  and  sang 
incessantly. 


460  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Mourning  Warbler.     Geothlypis  Philadelphia. 

I  have  seen  but  the  one  specimen  of  this  warbler,  to  recognize 
it.  A  friend,  who  has  carefully  studied  our  warblers,  reports  it  as 
"  not  uncommon  in  April  and  May." 

Yellow-breasted  Chat.     Icteria  virens. 
Very  abundant  as  a  summer  resident. 

Hooded  Warbler.     Myiodioctes  mitratus. 

Very  variable  as  to  numbers.  Dr.  Turnbull  speaks  of  it  as 
"  rather  rare." 

Green  Fly-catcher.     Myiodioctes  pusillus. 

"This  bird  appears  early  in  May,  and  again  in  October,  and  is 
rather  abundant "  (Turnbull). 

My  impression  is  that  they  are  also,  to  a  certain  extent,  summer 
residents,  and  presumably  breed  here. 

Canada  Fly-catcher.     Myiodioctes  Canadensis. 

"  Frequent  from  the  end  of  April  to  October  "  (Turnbull). 

Redstart.     Setophaga  ruticilla. 
Abundant.     A  summer  resident. 

Scarlet  Tanager.     Pyranga  rubra. 
Abundant.     A  summer  resident. 

Summer  Redbird.     Pyranga  cestiva. 

Rare.     Formerly  more  abundant  than  the  preceding. 

Barn-Swallow.     Hirundo  horreorum. 
Common.     March  to  September  30th. 

White-bellied  Swallow.     Tachycineta  'bicolor. 
Common.     Late  in  March  to  September  15th. 

Cliff-Swallow.     Petrochelidon  lunifrons. 

Common  in  colonies,  which  return  year  after  year  to  the  same 
nesting-places.  April  to  September,  both  inclusive. 

Bank-Swallow.     Cotyle  riparia. 

Common.    Early  spring  until  late  in  October. 


APPENDIX.  461 

Kough-v   iged  Swallow.     Stelgidopteryx  serripennis. 

This  is  the  least  abundant  of  our  swallows,  but  is  never  wanting 
altogether,  I  believe. 

Purple  Martin.     Prague  subis. 

Common,  where  boxes  for  their  accommodation  are  provided. 

Cedar-Bird.     Ampelis  cedrorum. 

"  Abundant,  but  less  frequent  in  winter  than  at  other  seasons  " 
(Turnbull).  My  observations  are  the  reverse.  I  certainly  have 
seen  much  larger  flocks  and  more  of  them  in  winter.  During  the 
severe  January  of  1884  they  were  exceedingly  abundant. 

"Wax-Wing.     Ampelis  garrulus. 

"  Has  been  occasionally  shot  near  Philadelphia  "  (Turnbull).  I 
have  seen  two  specimens  of  this  northern  species,  both  of  which 
were  killed  near  Trenton,  New  Jersey. 

Red-eyed  Fly-catcher.      Vireosylvia  olivacea. 
Common  from  May  until  end  of  October. 

Philadelphia  Greenlet.      Vireosylvia  Philadelphia. 

"  Very  rare  "  (Turnbull).  I  have  met  with  but  two  specimens, 
and  these  were  collected  twenty  years  ago  ;  but  as  these  birds  might 
readily  be  confounded  with  other  greenlets,  when  simply  seen  u  on 
the  wing,"  it  is  probable  that  they  are  not  so  excessively  rare  as  is 
generally  supposed. 

"Warbling  Greenlet.      Vireosylvia  gilva. 
Common  from  May  to  October,  both  inclusive. 

Blue-headed  Fly-catcher.      Vireosylvia  solitaria. 

"  Eather  rare,  arriving  in  April  and  departing  in  October " 
(Turnbull). 

Yellow-throated  Fly-catcher.     Vireosylvia  flavifrons. 

"Not  uncommon  from  the  end  of  April  to  September"  (Turn- 
bull).  I  have  found  the  nests  of  this  species  in  elm  and  maple 
trees;  usually  at  a  considerable  elevation;  above  rather  than  below 
the  so-called  "  nest-line." 

White-eyed  Yireo.     Vireo  Novceboracensis. 

Common  from  March  to  October,  both  inclusive.  Stragglers 
are  occasionally  met  with  in  midwinter. 


462  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Butcher-Bird .     Collurio  borealis. 

"Not  uncommon,  especially  in  winter.  In  March  it  migrates 
to  the  north,  but  many  nestle  on  the  mountain-ridges  of  the  Alle- 
ghanies  "  (Turnbull). 

Loggerhead  Shrike.     Collurio  Ludovicianus. 

This  southern  species  is  now  found  every  summer  in  this  neigh- 
borhood. I  have  seen  half  a  dozen  specimens  within  a  year,  and  know 
of  others  collected  within  the  past  four  or  five  years.  This  species 
appears  to  have  become  comparatively  common  since  the  great  in- 
crease in  the  number  of  English  sparrows,  now  so  melancholy  a 
feature  of  our  ornithology ;  and  the  spread  in  the  range  of  this  and 
the  preceding  species  of  shrike  is  attributed  to  the  unfortunate 
abundance  of  the  perfidious  foreign  sparrow. 

Pine  Grosbeak.     Pinicola  enucleator. 

Varies  greatly  in  accordance  with  the  character  of  the  winter. 
Dr.  Turnbull  speaks  of  it  as  "  rather  rare." 

Purple  Finch.     Carpodacus  purpureus. 

"Not  uncommon  from  September  to  April,  a  few  remaining 
during  summer  "  (Turnbull). 

Red  Crossbill.     Loxia  curvirostra. 

A  winter  visitant ;  at  times  quite  abundant. 

White-winged  Crossbill.     Loxia  leucoptera. 

"  Rare,  but  in  some  winters  more  plentiful  "  (Turnbull).  I  saw 
them,  in  the  summer  of  1867,  near  the  Delaware  Water-Gap. 

Linnet.     ^Egiothus  linaria. 

"Not  uncommon  in  severe  winters,  coming  early  in  November, 
and  remaining  until  April "  (Turnbull).  I  have  not  found  the  char- 
acter of  the  winter  to  determine  the  question  of  their  presence  or 
absence.  I  have  never  known  a  winter  when  linnets  were  not  seen. 

Thistle-Bird.     Chrysomitris  tristis. 

Common.  Resident.  More  gregarious  in  winter  than  at  other 
times. 

Snow-Bunting.     Plectrophanes  nivalis. 

"  Of  frequent  occurrence,  and  usually  appearing  after  a  snow- 
storm. It  arrives  early  in  December,  and  leaves  in  March  "  (Turn- 
bull). 


APPENDIX.  463 

Lapland  Long-Spur.     Plectrophanes  Lapponicus. 

"  Very  rare,  and  found  only  in  severe  winters  "  (Turnbull).  My 
observations  have  determined  that  single  specimens  of  this  bird 
are  not  unusually  found  in  the  flocks  of  the  preceding  species. 

Savannah  Sparrow.     Passerculus  Savanna. 
Transitory.     Abundant  only  in  spring  and  autumn. 

Grass-Finch.     Pocecetes  gramineus. 

Abundant,  resident,  and  the  most  "  domestic  "  of  our  birds.  In 
the  fields  in  which  these  birds  are  hatched  they  appear  to  remain 
throughout  their  lives.  They  are  as  abundant  in  January  as  in 
June.  Dr.  Turnbull  considered  them  migratory,  and  speaks  of  their 
numbers  as  "  being  augmented  in  summer  by  flocks  arriving  early 
in  April.1" 

Yellow- winged  Sparrow.     Ammodromus  passerinus. 

"  Common,  arriving  late  in  April,  and  departing  in  October  " 
(Turnbull). 

Henslow's  Bunting.     Ammodromus  Henslowi. 

Never  common.     Varies  greatly  in  numbers  from  year  to  year. 

Sharp-tailed  Finch.     Ammodromus  caudacutus. 

"Frequent  on  the  salt  marshes  along  the  coast"  (Turnbull). 
Not  uncommon  on  the  inland  tide-water  meadows  of  the  Delaware 
Eiver. 

White-crowned  Sparrow.     Zonotrichia  leucophrys. 

Never  abundant,  but  still  not  rare.  They  appear  often  as  early 
as  September,  and  remain  until  the  spring  following  is  well  ad- 
vanced. 

White-throated  Sparrow.     Zonotrichia  albicollis. 

Common  from  September  to  May,  often  inclusive  of  the  latter 
month. 

Tree- Sparrow.     Spizella  monticola. 

Abundant  from  October  to  April,  both  inclusive.  A  statement 
made  by  the  writer  in  1868  ("Geology  of  New  Jersey"),  that  this 
species  was  "resident,"  was  a  careless  blunder. 

Field-Sparrow.     Spizella  pusilla. 

"  Common.  Comes  early  in  April  and  leaves  in  October  "  (Turn- 
bull).  If  the  weather  is  pleasant,  they  remain  until  December. 


464  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Chippy.     Spizella  socialis. 
.  Kesident.    Not  migratory,  as  stated  by  Dr.  Turnbull. 

Swamp-Sparrow.     Melospiza  palustris. 

Abundant  in  all  our  reedy  meadows.  A  sweet  songster,  with 
notes  that  are  as  liquid  as  the  babbling  of  a  brook. 

Song-Sparrow.     Melospiza  melodia. 

Resident,  but  to  some  extent  may  also  be  migratory.  I  can  not 
perceive,  however,  that  they  are  more  abundant  in  summer  than  in 
winter. 

Lincoln's  Finch.     Melospiza  Lincolni. 
Not  abundant.     Both  migratory  and  resident. 

Snow-Bird.     Junco  hyemalis. 

Abundant  from  October  to  April,  both  inclusive. 

Foxie  Sparrow.     Passer ella  iliaca. 

Arrive  in  October  usually,  and  remain  until  April  1st.  They 
appear  to  be  most  abundant  at  the  end  of  winter,  when  often  quite 
large,  loose  flocks  are  seen  associated  with  numbers  of  white- 
throats. 

Black-throated  Bunting.     Euspiza  Americana. 

"  Plentiful.  Appearing  early  in  May,  and  leaving  in  September  " 
(Turnbull). 

Rose-breasted  Grosbeak.     Goniaphea  Ludoviciana. 

Since  1880  this  species  has  been  increasing  in  numbers  steadily. 
They  come  early  in  May,  and  remain  until  September  30th.  The 
finest  song-bird  of  North  America. 

Indigo-Bird.     Cyanospiza  cyanea. 

Common  from  May  to  September,  both  inclusive ;  but  so  sensi- 
tive to  cold  storms  that  a  cool  August  drives  them  southward. 

Cardinal-Grosbeak.     Cardinalis  Virginianus. 

Resident,  and  more  lively  and  full  of  song  at  Christmas  than  in 
midsummer.  Dr.  Turnbull  intimates  that  they  are  partly  migra- 
tory ;  but  I  am  inclined  to  believe  this  an  error.  There  is,  at  least, 
no  evidence  of  this  in  Mercer  County. 

Chewink.     Pipilo  erytJirophthalmus. 

Common  from  early  spring  until  the  leaves  have  fallen.     Ac- 


APPENDIX.  465 

cording  to  Dr.  Turnbull,  "  a  few  remain  during  winter,  and  may  be 
found  in  well-sheltered  localities.1' 

Bobolink.     Dolichonyx  oryzivorus. 

Appear  early  in  May  or  April,  if  the  weather  is  mild,  and 
spread  over  the  country  as  "  bobolinks."  In  August  they  gather 
into  large  flocks,  and  follow  the  river  valleys  southward  as  "reed- 
birds  "  on  the  Delaware,  and  "  rice-birds"  in  the  Southern  States. 

Cow-Bird.     Molothrus  pecoris. 

Common  from  March  15th  to  November  1st,  and  sometimea 
seen  later  in  the  year. 

Red-winged  Blackbird.     Agelaius plioeniceus. 

Most  abundant  from  February  until  November,  but  to  be  found 
even  during  midwinter. 

Meadow-Lark.     Sturnella  magna. 
Resident.     Abundant. 

Baltimore  Oriole.     Icterus  Baltimore. 

Very  abundant.  April  15th  to  October  1st  are  the  dates  of  the 
arrival  and  disappearance  of  most  of  them  ;  but  a  few  stragglers  are 
seen  every  year,  both  earlier  and  later  than  the  dates  given. 

Orchard  Oriole.     Icterus  spurius. 

Equally  common  with  the  above.  Arrives  and  departs  at  about 
the  same  time  of  year. 

Rusty  Grackle.     Scolecophegus  ferrugineus. 

More  abundant  during  some  years  than  others,  but  at  no  time 
as  common  as  the  following. 

Crow  Blackbird.     Quiscalus  purpureus. 
Common.     Both  resident  and  migratory. 

Raven.     Corvus  corax. 

Only  occasionally  seen  "  flying  over." 

Crow.     Corvus  Americanus. 
Common.     Resident. 

Fish-Crow.     Corvus  ossifragus. 

Rare.  Dr.  Turnbnll  speaks  of  it  as  migratory,  stating  that  "  it 
arrives  early  in  April." 


466  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Blue  Jay.     Cyanurus  cristatus. 

Common.  Dr.  Turnbull  speaks  of  it  as  u  less  numerous  in  win- 
ter than  at  other  seasons."  I  have  not  found  this,  but  the  contrary 
to  be  true. 

Forked-tailed  Fly-catcher.     Milvulus  forficatus. 

"  Bonaparte  procured  a  specimen  of  this  bird  near  Bridgeton, 
New  Jersey  ;  another  was  shot  by  Audubon  at  Cam  den,  near  Phila- 
delphia, in  June,  1832  "  (Turnbull). 

A  specimen  was  collected  in  April,  1872,  near  Trenton,  New 
Jersey,  and  presented  by  the  writer  to  the  Academy  or  Science,  at 
Salem,  Massachusetts. 

King-Bird.     Tyrannus  Carolinensis. 
Common.    May  to  September,  both  inclusive. 

Great-crested  Fly-catcher.     Myiarchus  crinitus. 
Common.     May  to  September,  both  inclusive. 

Pee  wee.     Sayornis  fuscus. 

Common.     March  to  October,  both  inclusive. 

Wood  Peewee.     Contopus  wrens. 

Abundant.    April  to  October,  both  inclusive. 

Olive-sided  Fly-catcher.     Contopus  borealis. 

"  Very  rare.  It  is  generally  seen  early  in  May  on  its  way  north, 
and  returns  in  September  "  (Turnbull). 

Traill's  Fly-catcher.     Empidonax  Traillii. 

"Bare,  but  some  seasons  it  is  not  uncommon  in  the  spring,  ar- 
riving about  the  middle  of  May  "  (Turnbull). 

I  am  positive  that  it  occasionally  remains  during  the  summer 
and  breeds. 

Green-crested  Fly-catcher.     Empidonax  Acadicus. 

"  Frequent  from  the  beginning  of  May  to  the  middle  of  Septem- 
ber. It  is  generally  found  in  the  most  secluded  parts  of  woods  " 
(Turnbull). 

Least  Fly-catcher.     Empidonax  minimus. 

"  Rather  rare,  arriving  in  April  on  its  northern  migration,  and 
returning  early  in  September.  A  few  remain  to  breed "  (Turn- 
bull). 


APPENDIX.  467 

Yellow-bellied  Fly-catcher.     Empidonax  flaviventris. 

"  Eare.  It  arrives  in  the  middle  of  April,  on  its  way  north. 
Dr.  Slack  found  it  breeding  near  Trenton  "  (Turnbull). 

Whip-poor-will.     Antrostomus  vociferus. 
Common.     May  to  August,  both  inclusive. 

Night-Hawk.     Chordeiles  Virginianus. 
Common.     April  to  September,  both  inclusive. 

Chimney-  S  wallow.     Chastura  pelagica. 
Common.     April  to  September,  both  inclusive. 

Humming-Bird.     Trochilus  colubris. 

Common.  Arrives  as  soon  as  the  weather  has  become  settled 
and  fairly  warm,  and  remains  until  frost,  or  until  about  the  middle 
of  October. 

Kingfisher.     Ceryle  alcyon. 

Both  resident  and  migratory.     Abundant. 

Yellow-billed  Cuckoo.     Coccygus  Americanize. 

Common.   Arrives  early  in  spring  and  remains  until  October  1st. 

Black-billed  Cuckoo.     Coccygus  erythrophlhalmus. 

Not  as  common  as  the  preceding.  "  It  frequents  the  borders  of 
small  streams  "  (Turnbull). 

Hairy  Woodpecker.     Picus  villosus. 
Common.     Kesident. 

Downy  Woodpecker.     Picus  pubescens. 
Common.     Eesident. 

Yellow-bellied  Woodpecker.     Sphyrapicus  varius. 
Common.     Eesident  and  partly  migratory. 

Red-bellied  Woodpecker.     Centurus  Carolinus. 
Common.     Partly  migratory. 

Red-headed  Woodpecker.     Melanerpes  erythrocephalus. 
Common.     Apparently  migratory. 

Flicker.     Colaptes  auratus. 
Common.     Irregularly  migratory. 


468  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Barn-Owl.     Slrix  pratincola. 

"  Not  rare,  and  more  frequent  in  spring  and  autumn  "  (Turn- 
bull). 

Cat-Owl.     Otus  Wilsonianus. 

Not  abundant  of  late ;  but  twenty  or  more  years  ago  were  com- 
mon in  the  swampy  woodlands. 

Marsh- Owl.     Otus  brachyotus. 

Common.  Dr.  Turnbull  refers  to  it  as  migratory,  "  arriving  in 
November,  and  departing  in  April."  This  is  surely  an  error.  I 
have  frequently  found  it  breeding  in  hollow  trees,  near  Trenton, 
New  Jersey. 

Barred  Owl.     Syrnium  nebulosum. 
Rare.     Usually  seen  in  autumn  and  winter. 

Saw-whet  Owl.     Nyctale  Acadica. 

Comparatively  abundant  since  1877.  Eesident,  and  breeds  an- 
nually in  swampy  lands  near  Trenton,  New  Jersey. 

Screech-Owl.    Scops  asio. 
Common.     Resident. 

Great  Horned  Owl.     Bubo  Virginianus. 

Rare.     Occasionally  a  "  family  "  of  them  are  met  with  in  winter. 

Snowy  Owl.     Nyctea  scandiaca. 

Rare.  A  winter  visitant.  More  common  during  some  winters 
than  others. 

Hawk-Owl.     Surnia  ulula. 

Rare.  Probably  our  rarest  winter  visitant.  "  Is  occasionally 
found  in  severe  winters.  One  was  shot  at  Haddington,  near  Phila- 
delphia, in  1866  "  (Turnbull). 

Duck-Hawk.     Falco  communis. 

Very  rare.  "During  autumn  and  winter  it  frequents  the 
marshes  along  the  sea-coast  and  the  courses  of  rivers,  preying  upon 
wild-fowl "  (Turnbull). 

Pigeon-Hawk.     Falco  colwnbarius. 

Not  common.  Migratory;  but  occasionally  breeds  in  New 
Jersey. 


APPENDIX.  4:69 

Sparrow-Hawk.     Falco  sparverius. 
Abundant.    Resident. 

Fish-Hawk.     Pandion  halicetus. 
Abundant.     Migratory. 

Swallow-tailed  Hawk.     Nauclerusfurcatus. 

I  saw  a  specimen  of  this  hawk  in  November,  1883.  "  Has  been 
seen  once  or  twice  in  Pennsylvania.  Mr.  John  Krider  shot  one  near 
Philadelphia  in  1857  "  (Turnbull). 

Mississippi  Kite.     Ictinia  subcwrulea. 

Specimens  of  this  hawk  have  been  killed  in  Mercer  County 
during  the  past  ten  years.  It  is,  however,  exceedingly  rare. 

Marsh-Hawk.     Circus  Hudsonius. 

Common  during  the  winter,  but  less  so  during  the  rest  of  the 
year. 

Goshawk.     Astur  atricapillus. 
Rare,  and  seen  during  the  winter  only. 

Sharp-shinned  Hawk.     Accipiter  fuscus. 
Abundant.    Resident. 

Cooper's  Hawk.     Accipiter  Cooperi. 
Abundant.     Resident. 

Hen-Hawk.    .Buteo  lorealis. 

Common.  "  Much  more  frequent  in  autumn  and  winter ;  haunt- 
ing meadows  and  cultivated  districts  "  (Turnbnll). 

Winter- Falcon.     Buteo  lineatus. 
Not  as  abundant  as  the  preceding. 

Broad-winged  Hawk.     Buteo  Pennsylvanicus. 

"  Rare.     This  hawk  is  also  more  frequently  seen  in  winter." 

Kough-legged  Buzzard.     Archibuteo  lagopus. 

Common ;  particularly  during  the  winter.  Dr.  Turnbull  refers 
to  this  bird,  when  it  has  acquired  the  melanistic  plumage,  as  a  dis- 
tinct species — Archibuteo  Sancti  Johannis.  The  plumage  varies 
from  dirty  white  to  black. 


470  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Ring-tailed  Eagle.  -  Aquila  chryscetus. 

Rare.  A  single  specimen  was  seen  by  the  writer  several  times 
during  the  winter  of  1883-'84. 

Bald  Eagle.     Ilalietus  leucocephalus. 

Occasionally  specimens  are  seen,  particularly  during  the  autumn 
and  winter ;  but  these  birds  are  yearly  becoming  more  scarce. 

Turkey-Buzzard.     Cathartes  aura. 
Common.     Irregularly  migratory. 

Wild  Pigeon.     Ectopistes  migratoria. 
No  longer  abundant  in  this  neighborhood. 

Turtle-Dove.     Zencedura  Carolinensis. 

Common.  Migratory.  Dr.  Turnbull  states  that  "  many  remain 
during  the  winter." 

Quail.     Ortyx  Virginianus. 
Common.     Resident. 

Ruffed  Grouse.     Bouasa  wnbellus. 
Formerly  abundant,  but  now  quite  rare. 

Black-bellied  Plover.     Squatarola  Helvetica. 

"  It  appears  late  in  April,  and  again  in  September,  a  few  remain- 
ing on  the  uplands  to  breed  "  (Turnbull). 

This  species,  associated  with  golden  plovers,  are  most  frequently 
seen  in  August  and  September,  in  Mercer  County ;  sometimes 
flocks  of  several  hundred  being  found.  They  never  tarry  long,  but 
seem  to  be  migrating. 

Golden  Plover.     Charadrius  fulvus. 

"Common,  appearing  in  the  end  of  April,  and  again  early  in 
September  "  (Turnbull). 

Killdeer  Plover.     ^Egialitis  vociferus. 

Common  as  a  visitor,  but  few  now  remain  to  breed.  Less  than 
half  a  century  ago  they  were  a  familiar  bird  in  our  upland  fields, 
and  bred  in  newly  plowed  fields.  Now  they  are  found  only  in 
spring  and  autumn,  along  our  larger  creeks  and  the  river-shore. 
"  Especially  abundant  along  the  sea-shore  in  winter  "  (Turnbull). 


APPENDIX.  471 

Wilson's  Plover.     jEgialitis  Wilsonius. 

"  Kather  rare.  Arrives  early  in  May  "  (Turnbull).  Associated 
with  other  small  "  beach  birds,"  this  plover  is  occasionally  found  in 
considerable  numbers  along  the  shores  of  the  Delaware  River,  above 
the  reach  of  tide- water. 

Ring-necked  Plover.     ^Egialitis  semipalmatus. 

Properly  a  "  shore  bird,1'  but,  like  the  preceding,  is  found  along 
the  mud-flats  of  the  Delaware  Kiver,  particularly  in  August. 

Piping  Plover.     jEgialitis  melodus. 

Like  the  above,  this  is  properly  a  bird  of  the  sea-coast,  that  fre- 
quently wanders  up  our  river-valleys  far  beyond  the  limits  of  salt 
water.  They  are  often  exceedingly  abundant  after  storms,  espe- 
cially when  an  easterly  wind  has  prevailed. 

Red  Phalarope.     Phalaropus  fulicarius. 

"  A  few  examples  of  this  species  are  obtained  every  season " 
(Turnbull).  I  have  seen  a  specimen,  in  the  flesh,  killed  on  the  river 
at  Trenton. 

"Woodcock.     Philohela  minor. 

Common.  Resident  to  a  limited  extent.  Usually  migrate,  ap- 
pearing about  March  1st. 

Snipe.     Gallinago  Wilsonii. 

Common.  Migratory.  A  few  remain,  however,  during  the 
winter.  Have  been  known  to  breed  in  Mercer  County,  New  Jersey. 

Peep.     Ereun  etes  pusillus. 

Irregularly  abundant,  in  spring  and  autumn,  along  the  river- 
shore. 

Least  Sandpiper.     Tringa  minutilla. 

Irregularly  abundant,  in  spring  and  autumn,  along  the  river- 
shore. 

Sanderling.     Calidris  arenaria. 

Single  specimens  of  this  coast  species  are  so  frequently  found 
associated  with  other  "sand-snipe,"  that  it  may  properly  be  con- 
sidered as  a  spring  and  autumn  visitant.  Indeed,  it  is  doubtful  if 
not  all  of  the  marine  waders  do  not  occasionally  come  so  far  inland. 


4:72  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Telltale.     Totanus  melanoleucus. 

Common  during  the  spring,  summer,  and  early  part  of  autumn. 

Yellow  Shanks.     Totanus  flavipes. 

Even  more  abundant  than  the  preceding,  with  which  they  are 
usually  associated. 

Solitary.     Totanus  solitarius. 

Common.     Migratory.     Frequents  upland  localities. 

Teeter.     Trlngoides  macularius. 

Abundant  everywhere  from  May  to  October,  both  inclusive. 

Field-Plover.     Actiturus  Bartramius. 

"  Plentiful  from  the  middle  of  April  till  late  in  September  " 
(Turnbull). 

Great  Blue  Heron.     Ardea  Herodias. 

"Common,  arriving  in  April.  A  few,  however,  remain  during 
winter  "  (Turnbull). 

This  species  is  quite  common  near  Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  on 
the  meadows. 

Great  "White  Heron.     Herodias  egretta. 

u  Rather  rare,  arriving  about  the  middle  of  May  "  (Turnbull). 

Snowy  Egret.     Garzetta  candidissima. 

A  few  are  seen  every  summer,  along  the  Delaware  River,  asso- 
ciated with  herons  of  other  species. 

Blue  Heron.     Florida  ccerulea. 

"  Rare  "  (Turnbull).  I  am  surprised  to  find  this  species  men- 
tioned as  rare  in  New  Jersey.  It  is  always  abundant  about  the 
meadows  and  river-banks,  from  Trenton  southward  to  the  capes. 

Green  Heron.     Butorides  virescens. 

Abundant.     Migratory.     April  to  October,  both  inclusive. 

Night-Heron.     Nyctiardea  grisea. 

Abundant.     Migratory  and  resident  to  a  limited  extent. 

Yellow-crowned  Night-IIerQn.     Nyctherodius  violaceus. 
"  A  rare  straggler  from  the  south  "  (Turnbull).     I  have  found 
it  frequently  along  the  river,  north  of  Trenton,  New  Jersey. 


APPENDIX.  473 

Bittern.     Botaurus  lentiginosus. 

Common.  It  comes  to  us  early  in  April  and  remains  until  the 
autumn  is  well  spent. 

Least  Bittern.     Ardetta  exilis. 

Frequent,  but  not  as  abundant  as  the  preceding.     Migratory. 

Ibis.     Ibis  falcinellus. 

"  Last  season  (1866)  Mr.  John  Krider  shot  a  specimen  just  below 
Philadelphia.  At  long  intervals  it  has  been  seen  on  the  River  Dela- 
ware, and  also  at  Egg  Harbor  "  (Turnbull).  It  has  been  found  on 
Crosswicks  Creek,  Mercer  County,  New  Jersey,  on  two  occasions ; 
both  specimens  being  procured. 

King-Rail.     Rallus  elegans. 

King-Rails  frequent  the  "  mucky  "  meadows  of  my  farm  every 
year.  In  the  summer  of  1882  my  son  found  the  nest  of  this  bird 
for  the  first  time.  It  was  formed  of  long,  dead  grass,  with  a  base 
of  small  sticks,  and  was  placed  at  the  foot  of  a  low  bush.  It  con- 
tained eight  eggs,  similar  in  appearance  to  those  of  the  common 
Clapper-Rail  of  our  sea-coast. 

Virginia  Rail.     Rallus  Virginianus. 

Very  rare  along  the  Delaware  River,  until  the  vicinity  of  salt 
water  is  reached,  where,  in  the  broader  stretches  of  tide-meadows, 
it  becomes  more  frequent. 

Sora.     Porzana  Carolina. 

"  Abundant,  arriving  from  the  south  early  in  May.  About  the 
beginning  of  August  it  returns  from  the  north  in  great  numbers, 
and  finally  leaves  us  in  October.  A  few  remain  to  breed  during 
summer  "  (Turnbull). 

Yellow  Rail.     Porzana  Novceboracensis. 

Quite  rare.  I  have  seldom  seen  more  than  one  or  two  during 
the  season. 

Florida  Gallinule.     Gallinula  galeata. 

"  A  very  rare  summer  visitant,  from  the  middle  of  May  to  late 
in  October,  on  the  Delaware  and  Susquehanna"  (Turnbull).  I 
have  seen  but  the  one  specimen  in  New  Jersey,  which  I  procured. 
It  was  found  on  the  meadows  bordering  Crosswicks  Creek. 


474  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Coot.    Fulica  Americana. 

Common  from  early  in  April  until  late  in  autumn.  Dr.  Turnbull 
speaks  of  it  as  "  rather  rare." 

Wild  Goose.     Branta  Canadensis. 
Common.     Migratory. 

Mallard.     Anas  loschas. 
Common.     Migratory. 

Black  Duck.     Anas  obscura. 
Common.     Migratory. 

Sprig-Tail.     Dafila  acuta. 
Common.     Migratory. 

Widgeon.     Mareca  Americana. 
Common.     Migratory. 

Blue-winged  Teal,     fyuerquedula  discors. 
Common.    Migratory. 

Green-winged  Teal.     Nettion  Carolinensis. 
Common.     Migratory. 

Wood-Duck.     Aix  sponsa. 

Common.  Resident  and  migratory.  They  breed  in  hollow- 
trees,  in  large  numbers,  and  I  have  seen  them  as  frequently  during 
winter  as  in  summer. 

Buffle-headed  Duck.     Bucephala  albeola. 

Common.  Migratory.  During  the  freshets  of  winter  and  early 
spring  almost  all  the  marine  species  of  ducks  are  found  in  greater 
or  less  numbers  along  the  river.  Geese,  brant,  and  broad-bills,  es- 
pecially, are  often  killed;  and  numbers  of  canvas-backs  and  red- 
heads, also,  but  less  frequently.  The  list  given,  excepting  the 
goose,  are  those  that  are  usually  found  when  there  is  a  "  flight  of 
wild  fowl." 

Gull.     Larus  argentatus. 

Common,  immediately  after  northeast  storms. 

Gull.     Larus  Delawarensis. 

Common  after  storms.     Abundant  nearer  Delaware  Bay. 


APPENDIX.  475 

Occasionally,  single  gulls  are  seen  inland,  or  flying  over  the 
river — not  only  those  mentioned,  but  other  species. 

Tern.     Sterna  hirundo. 

Occasionally,  and  particularly  after  severe  easterly  storms,  terns 
are  quite  abundant  about  the  river.  They  never  remain,  however, 
more  than  two  or  three  days. 

Loon.     Colymbus  torquatus. 

Not  uncommon  during  autumn  and  winter,  and  occasionally 
seen  in  summer. 

Red-throated  Diver.     Colymbus  septentrionalis. 

I  saw  a  specimen  of  this  diver  that  was  killed  on  the  river  in 
February,  1879.  I  carefully  examined  the  specimen  a  few  hours 
after  it  was  shot. 

Crested  Grebe.     Podiceps  cristatus. 

Every  winter,  specimens  of  this  bird  are  killed  on  the  river. 

Devil-Di  ver.     Podilymb  us  podiceps. 
Common.     Migratory,  but  irregularly  so. 

REPTILES. 

Land-Turtle,  or  Box-Tortoise.     Cistudo  clausa. 
Muhlenberg's  Turtle.     Chelopus  Muhleribergii. 
Rough-backed  Turtle.     Chelopus  insculptus. 
Speckled  Turtle.    Nanemys  guttatus. 

Blanding's  Turtle.     Emys  meleagris. 

The  species  that  I  take  to  be  the  above  is  exceedingly  rare,  and, 
if  not  the  same,  is  a  nondescript.  It  does  not  in  every  particular 
agree  with  the  descriptions  of  the  species  as  given  by  authors  gener- 
ally. 

Painted  Turtle.     Chrysemys  picta. 
Red-bellied  Turtle.     Pseudemys  rugosa. 
Mud-Digger.     Cinosternum  Pennsylvanicum. 
Stinking-Turtle.     Aromochelys  odoratus. 
Snapper.     CJielydra  serpentina. 


476  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Fence-Lizard.     Sceloporus  undulatus. 

These  lizards  are  yearly  becoming  more  scarce,  as  the  areas  of 
woodland  are  being  "  cut  off." 

Hog-nosed  Snake.     Heterodon  vlatyrkinus. 
Water-Snake.     Tropidonotus  sipedon. 
Leather-Snake.     Tropidonotus  leberis. 
Brown  Snake.     Storeria  De  Kayi. 
Slender  Garter-Snake.     Eutcenia  saurita. 
Garter-Snake.     Eutcenia  sirtalis. 
Black  Snake.     Bascanion  constrictor. 
Green  Snake.      Cyclophis  cestwus. 
Eing-necked  Snake.     Diadoplms punctatus. 

Chain-Snake.     Ophibolus  doliatus. 

This  snake  is  also  known  as  "thunder  and  lightning "  snake. 

Blind- Worm.     Carphophiops  amoena. 

BATKACHIANS. 

Spring-Frog.     Rana  halecina 
Pickerel-Frog.     Rana  palustrib. 
Green  Frog.     Rana  clamitans. 
Bull-Frog.     Rana  Catesbiana. 
Wood-Frog.     Rana  temporaria. 
Spade-Foot  Toad.     ScapJiiopus  solitarius. 
Tree-Toad.     Hyla  versicolor. 
Pickering's  Tree-Toad.     Hyla  Pickeringii. 
Peeper.     Acris  crepitans. 
Toad.     Bufo  lentiginosus. 

Spotted  Triton.     Dieinyctylus  viridescens. 
Dusky  Salamander.     Desmognathus  fusca. 


APPENDIX.  477 

Eed-backed  Salamander.     Plethodon  erythronotus. 

Ked  Triton.     Spelerpes  ruber. 

Purple  Salamander.     Gyrinophilus  porphyriticus. 

Tiger-Triton.     Amllystoma  tigrinum. 

There  are  other  salamanders  found  in  Mercer  County,  I  am  con- 
fident, but  only  the  above  have  I  been  able  positively  to  identify. 
Of  the  latter  species,  I  have  seen  but  the  one  specimen. 

Hellbender.     Menopoma  Alleghaniense. 

Accidental.    Believed  to  have  escaped  from  a  traveling  "  show." 

FISHES. 

Hog-Fish,  Sand-Perch.     Percina  caprodes. 
Darter.     Boleosoma  Olmstedi. 
Crimson  Darter.     Poecilichthys  erochrous. 
Darter.     Pcecilichthys  fusiforme. 

Yellow  Perch.     Perca  flavescens. 
Hook-Fish.     Roccus  lineatus. 
White  Perch.     Roccus  Americanus. 
Mud  Sunfish.     Acantharcus  pomotis. 
River  Sunfish.     Lepomis  auritus. 

Blue  Sunfish.     Lepomis  pallidus. 

Rare.  Single  specimens,  now  and  then,  have  been  ^found  in  the 
Delaware. 

Sunny.     Lepomis  giblosus. 

Banded  Sunfish.     Mesogonistius  chcetodon. 

Spotted  Sunfish.     Enneacanthus  simulans. 

Spotted  Sunfish.     Enneacanthus  obesus. 

The  first  mentioned  of  these  "  spotted  "  sunfish  is  extremely 
abundant,  but  the  other  is  uncommon.  Very  probably  they  are 
not  distinct. 


4:78  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 

Goggle-eyed  Perch.     Pomoxys  sparoides. 

Only  occasional  specimens  met  with  in  the  river. 
Pirate.     ApJiododerus  Say  anus. 

Mud-Blower,  or  Ling.     Lota  maculosa. 
Discovered  in  the  Delaware  River  in  1883. 

Stickleback.     Apeltes  quadracus. 
Rare  in  the  inland  streams. 

River  Minnow,  Blunt  Heads.     Fundulus  diaphanus. 

River  Minnow.     Fundulus  nigrofasciatus. 

There  are  two  other  species,  which,  I  believe,  occasionally  ascend 
the  river  as  far  as  Mercer  County.  Those  mentioned  are  exceeding- 
ly abundant,  particularly  the  former. 

Mud  Minnow.      Umbra  limi. 

Bill-Fish,  Silvery  Gar,  "  Snippick."    Belone  acutirostris. 

Pike.     Esox  reticulatus. 

Ditch-Pike.     Esoxfasciatus. 

Smelt.     Osmerus  mordax. 

Rare  in  the  Delaware,  but  common  in  other  rivers  of  the  State. 

Shad.     Alosa  sapidissima. 

Alewif  e.     Pomolobus  pseudoharengus. 

Gizzard  Shad.    Dorysoma  cepedianum. 

Blunt-nosed  Minnow.     Hyborlujnchus  notatus, 
Silvery  Minnow.     Hybognathus  nuchalis. 
Spawn-Eater.     Cliola  Hudsonia. 
Smelt-Shiner.     Cliola  Storeriana. 
Minnie.     Cliola  procne. 
Silver  Fin.     Cliola  analostana. 
Red  Fin.     Minnilus  cornutus. 
Minnie.     Minnilus  chalyhmus. 


APPENDIX.  479 

Rosy  Minnow.     Minnilus  amcenus. 

This  species  was  discovered  and  described  by  me  in  1873.     (See 
"American  Naturalist,"  vol.  viii,  p.  334.) 

Rosy  Dace.     Squalius  funduloides. 

Roach.     Notemigonus  chrysoleucus. 

Minnie.     Hemitremia  lifrenata. 

Chub.     Semotilus  corporalis. 

Chub.     Semotilus  fiuttaris. 

Long-nosed  Dace.     Rhinichthys  nasutus. 

Black-nosed  Dace.     Ehinichthys  atronasus. 

Sucker.     Myxostoma  macrolepidota. 
Mullet.     Chub-Sucker.     Erimyzon  sucetta. 
Mud-Sucker.     Hypenteliwn  nigricans. 
River-Sucker.     Catostomus  communis. 
River-Sucker.     Carpiodes  cyprinus. 

Catfish.     Ichthcelurus  punctatus. 
Catfish.     Amiurus  catus. 
Stone-Cat.     Noturus  gyrinus. 

Eel.     Anguilla  rostrata. 
Gar.     Lepidosteus  osseus. 
Sturgeon.     Acipenser  sturio. 
Sturgeon.     Acipenser  brevirostris. 
Lamprey.     Petromyzon  marinus. 

There  are  other  species  of  fresh-water  fishes,  than  those 
enumerated,  in  the  valley  of  the  Delaware  River  ;  some  of 
which  are  confined  to  the  mountainous  regions,  north  of  the 
county  boundaries  ;  others  do  not  wander  so  far  inland 
from  the  sea-coast  as  Mercer  County,  except  on  rare  occa- 
sions. 


INDEX. 


Acantharcus  pomotis,  367,  435. 
Acris  crepitans,  330. 
Adder,  spotted,  302,  303. 
^Egialitis  melodus,  201. 
Agassiz,  L.,  271,  418. 

American,  testudinata,  251,  256. 

habits  of  spade-foot  toad,  346. 
Agclaeus  phoeniceus,  117. 
Aix  sponsa,  237. 
Albany,  New  York,  398. 
Alee  Americanus,  17. 
Amiurus  catus,  435. 
"  American  Naturalist,"  15,  304,  382, 

388. 

Anguilla  rostrata,  428,  435. 
Ants,  nests  of,  in  wood,  65. 
Aphrodederus  sayanus,  388,  435. 
Ardea  exilis,  22,  227. 
Argyll,  Duke  of,  songs  of  American 

birds,  93. 

Aromochelys  odoratus,  267. 
Arvicola  riparia,  65. 
Assunpink  Creek,  364,  414. 
Audubon,   J.   J.,   winter  pelage   of 
weasels,  27. 

song  of  saw-whet  owl,  220 

Baird,  S.  R,  383. 

Bartram,  John,  on  habits  of  black 
bear,  18. 

William,  10. 

Bascanion  constrictor,  284. 
Batrachians,  intelligence  of,  345. 

short  studies  of,  312. 
Bear,  black,  17,  18. 
Beaver,  17,  19. 

Beaver-tree,  magnolia  glauca,  19. 
Beeches,  three,  191. 
21 


Belone  acutirostris,  397,  435. 
Bill-fish,  397,  435. 
Birds,  93. 

ancestral  form  of,  124. 

migration  of,  97,  164. 

nests  of,  124. 

songs  of,  136. 
Bison,  17. 

Bison  Americanus,  17. 
Bittern,  234. 

least,  227. 
Black-bass,  367. 
Black-birds,  red-winged,  117. 
Blarina  brevicauda,  64,  449. 
Botaurus  lentiginosus,  234. 
Boleosoma  Olmstedi,  358. 
Bream,  copper-nosed,  375. 
Bubo  Virginianus,  221. 
Bufo  Americanus,  337. 
Butorides  virescens,  234. 

Campanius,  Thomas,  account  of  rat- 
tle-snakes in  New  Jersey, 
283. 

Canada,  353. 

Canis  lupus,  17. 

Cariacus  Virginianus,  17. 

Carphophiops  amoena,  306. 

Carver,  Captain  Jonathan,  on  habits 
of  tree-toads,  329. 

Castor  fiber,  17,  19. 

Catalpa,  seed-vessels  of,  199. 

Cat-birds,  142. 

Cat-fish,  425,  435. 

Catostomoids,  422. 

Cats,  wild,  22,  24. 

Centropyxis  aculeata,  381. 

Cervus  Canadensis,  17. 


4:82 


INDEX. 


Ceryle  alcyon,  214. 

Chsetura  pelagica,  134,  174. 

Champlain,  Samuel,  431. 

Charlevoix,  on  habits  of  gar,  4S1. 

Chat,  yellow-breasted,  145. 

Chausarou  (see  Gar,  431). 

Chelydra  serpentina,  269. 

Chelopus  Muhlenbergii,  255. 
insculptus,  253. 

Chewink,  141. 

Chipmunk,  58. 

storing  of  food  by,  62. 

Chironomus,  larvae  of,  380,  384. 

Chrysemys  picta,  257. 

Chub,  407. 

Cinosternum  Pennsylvanicum,  265. 

Cliola  Hudsonia,  413. 

Cooper's  Creek,  Camden  County,  N. 
J.,  388. 

Cope,  Edward  D.,  on  cyprinidaB  of 
Pennsylvania,  436. 

Copper-bellies,  367. 

Corner,  a  secluded,  183. 

Corvus  Americanus,  142. 

Cotyle  riparia,  161. 

Coues,  Dr.  Elliott,  on  climbing  pow- 
ers of  skunks,  39. 
on  habits  of  Tengmalm's  owl,  219. 

Cougar,    former    abundance    of,    in 
New  Jersey,  8,  17. 

Cranes,  230. 

Crosswicks  Creek,  7,  46,  364,  397, 
413,  417,  418,  423,  424. 

Crotalus  horridus,  285. 

Crows,  142. 

Cuvier,  372. 

Cyanurus  cristatus,  191. 

Cyclophis  aestivus,  300. 

Cyclops  quadricornis,  380,  384. 

Cyprinodonts,  389. 

Cyprinoids,  402. 

Dace,  black-nosed,  419. 

long-nosed,  420. 
Daphnia,  sp.,  380,  384. 
Darter,  crimson,  360. 

Olmsted's,  358. 

Darwin,  Professor  Charles,  214. 
Deer,  17. 
DeKay,  James  E.,  64,  264,  326,  336, 

398,  405,  413. 
Delaware  River,  7,  9,  156,  180,  351, 

354,  361,  363,  381,  385,  422. 


Desmognathus  fusca,  342. 
Diadophis  punctatus,  301. 
Didelphys  Virginiana,  84. 
Diemyctelus  viridescens,  340. 
Dorysoma  cepedianum,  399. 
Duck,  wood,  237. 

Eels,  428,  435. 

Egrets,  228. 

Elk,  17. 

Emys  meleagris,  253. 

England,  fishes  of,  363. 

Enneacanthus  simulans,  382. 

obesus,  382. 

Eremophila  cornuta,  210. 
Erimyzon  sucetta,  435. 
Ermine,  27. 
Eskimos,  210. 
Etheostomoids,  355. 
Eutsenia  sirtalis,  294. 

saurita,  295. 

Felis  concolor,  8,  17. 
Fiber  zibethicus,  23,  73. 
Fire-flies,  313. 
Fishes,  351. 

courtship  of,  408,  438. 

traces  of  voice  in,  433. 
Flying  squirrel,  51. 
Forster,  John  Reinhold,  on  hiberna- 

tion of  swallows,  159. 
Forbes,  Professor  S.  A.,  on  food  of 

fishes,  387,  411. 
Frog,  bull,  319. 

pickerel,  316. 

spring,  318. 

24,  348. 


Galeoscoptes  Carolinensis,  142. 
Galton,  Professor  J.  C.,  on  voice  of 

fishes,  445. 
Gar,  430. 

Garzetta  candidissima,  228 
Gaunt,  Uz,  12,  201,  242,  276,  300, 

307. 

Gizzard,  shad,  399. 
Godman,  John  D.,  71. 
Goggle-eyed  perch,  367. 
Goniaphea  Ludoviciana,  198. 
Grosbeaks,  rose-breasted,  198. 
Grus  Canadensis,  230. 

Hcrodias  egretta,  231. 


INDEX. 


483 


Herons,  226. 
green,  234. 
night,  234. 
snowy,  228. 
white,  231. 

Hesperomys  leucopus,  68. 
Heterodon  platyrhinus,  302. 
Hinckley,  Mary  H.,  on  life-history  of 

tree-toad,  327. 
Hirundo  horreorum,  173. 
Hog-fish,  355. 
Kolbrook,  Dr.  John  Edward,  on  gait 

of  snapping-turtle,  269. 
Holland,  John  G.,  on  uniformity  of 

songs  of  birds,  138. 
Holder,  C.  F.,  on  habits   of  fresh- 
water fishes,  384. 
Hoop-snake,  109. 
Horned  larks,  210. 
Hudson  River,  398. 

valley  of,  156. 
Hyla  Pickering!!,  330. 
Hy lodes  gryllus,  330. 
Hypentelium  nigricans,  423. 

Ichthaelurus  punctatus,  425. 
Icteria  virens,  145. 
Icterus,  Baltimore,  129,  138. 

spurius,  132. 
Indians,  North  American,  18. 

shells,  heaps  formed  by,  423. 

Jay,  blue,  191. 
Jerboa,  31. 

Jordan,  David  S.,  manual  of  N.  A.  ver- 
tebrates, by,  quoted,  64,  355. 
Jumping-mouse,  31. 

Kalm,  Peter,  18,  20,  49,  56,  73,  84, 
133,  159,  171,  230,  284,  285, 
290,  313,  319,  322,  323,  324. 

King-fishers,  feeding  habits  of,  214. 

King-rail,  22. 

Lamprey,  435,  441. 
Lampyris,  sp.,  313. 
Least  bittern,  22,  227. 
Lepidosteus  osseus,  430. 
Lepomis  auritus,  367,  372. 

gibbosus,  375. 

pallidus,  375. 

Lincecum,  Dr.,  on  habits  of  opossum, 
92. 


Lutra  Canadensis,  23,  46. 
Lynx  rufus,  22,  24. 

Mammals,  extinction  of  large,  18. 

storing  of  food  by,  77. 
Manual  of  vertebrates,  Jordan's,  64. 
Mastodon,  17. 
Meadow-mouse,  65. 
Melanura  limi,  390. 
Mephitis  mephitica,  38,  279. 
Mercer  County,  N.  J.,  15. 
Mesogonistius  chaetodon,  380. 
Mice,  wild,  64. 
Micropterus  salmoides,  367. 
Milne-Edward,   on  skin  respiration 

of  frogs,  274. 
Mink,  34. 
Minnilus  amoonus,  417. 

cornutus,  409,  434. 
Minnows,  mud,  390. 

pug-nosed,  411. 

rosy,  417. 

silvery,  414. 
Moose,  17. 

Morris,    Dr.    Cheston,    sunfish    de- 
scribed by,  383. 
Mouse,  meadow,  65. 

white-footed,  68. 
Mud-sucker,  423. 
Mud  sunfish,  367,  435. 
Musk-rat,  23,  73. 
Mullet,  435. 

"Nature,"  quoted,  15. 

Nanemys  guttatus,  261. 

Newbold's  Island,   rock-fish  caught 

near,  364. 
New  Jersey,  geology  of,  388. 

snakes  found  in,  283. 
New  Sweden,  19. 
Norris,  Mr.  Isaac,  on  climate  of  New 

Jersey,  79. 

Notemigonus  chrysoleucus,  403. 
Nyctale  Acadica,  218,  220,  224. 

Tengmalmi,  219. 
Nyctiardea  grisea,  234. 

Olmsted's  darter,  358. 
Opossum,  84. 
Ophibolus  doliatus,  302. 
Oriole,  Baltimore,  129,  138. 

orchard,  132. 
Otter,  23,  46. 


481 


INDEX. 


Otus  brachyotus,  185. 
Owl,  barn,  221. 

great-horned,  221. 

saw- whet,  218,  220,  224. 

short-eared,  185. 

Tengmalm's,  219. 
Owls,  as  weather-prophets,  222. 

food  of,  223. 

Peeper,  330. 

Perca  flavescens,  360,  435. 

Perch,  goggle-eyed,  367,  385. 

pirate,  386,  435. 

sand,  355. 

white,  366. 

yellow,  360,  435. 
Percina  caprodes,  355. 
Peschel,  Oscar,  433. 
Petrochelidon  lunifrons,  171. 
Petromyzon  marinus,  435,  441. 
Pickering's  tree-toad,  330. 
Pike-shiner,  418. 
Pipilo  erythrophthalmus,  141. 
Pisidium,  sp.,  384. 
Plethodon  erythronotus,  343. 
Plover,  201,  203,  205. 
Po3celichtbys  erochrous,  360. 
Pomoxys  sparoides,  367. 
"  Popular  Science  Monthly,"  quoted, 

15. 

Porzana  Carolina,  180. 
Princeton,  N.  J.,  observations  on  mi- 
gration of  birds  made  at,  164. 
Pseudemys  rugosa,  264. 
Putnam,  Professor  F.  W.,  on  habits 

of  spade-foot  toad,  346. 
Putorius  ermineus,  27. 

vison,  34. 
Pyrgites  domesticus,  5,  195. 

Rail-bird,  king,  22. 

little,  or  sora,  180. 
Rain,  a  southerly,  242. 
Rallus  clcgans,  22. 
Rana  Catesbyana,  319. 

clamitans,  318. 

halecina,  317. 

palustris,  316. 

temporaria,  324,  348. 
Rangifer  caribou,  17. 
Red-fins,  409,  434. 
Reindeer,  17. 


Rhinichthys  atronasus,  419. 

nasutus,  420. 
Rhizopods,  381. 
Roach,  403. 

Robin,  variation  in  nests  of,  125. 
Roccus  Americanus,  366. 

lineatus,  363. 
Rock-fish,  363. 

Rodentia,  monograph  of  North  Amer- 
ican, 64. 

Romanes,  George  J.,  on  animal  in- 
telligence, 345. 

Salamanders,  339. 
dusky,  342. 
red,  344. 
red-backed,  343. 
Sandpipers,  201. 
Scaphiopus  solitarius,  325. 
"Science,"  quoted,  15. 
"  Science-Gossip,"  quoted,  15. 
Sciuropterus  volucella,  51. 
Scott,  W.  D.,  on  migration  of  birds 

at  night,  164. 
Semotilus  bullaris,  407. 

corporalis,  409. 
Semper,  Carl,  on  skin  respiration  of 

frogs,  274. 

Shabbaconk  Creek,  388. 
Shiners,  402. 
Shrews,  64,  449. 
Sill-hoppe  tosser,  313. 
"  Signal  Service  Notes,  No.  IX.  "  66. 
Skunk,  38,  279. 
Snakes,  282,  297,  298,  303. 
Snake,  black,  284. 

blind,  306 

brown,  294. 

chain,  302. 

cricket,  306. 

garter,  294. 

green,  300. 

ground,  306. 

hog-nosed,  287,  310. 

hoop,  169. 

rattle,  285. 

red,  306. 

ribbon,  295. 

ring,  301. 

thunder  and  lightning,  302. 

water,  291,  307. 
tappers,  269,  276. 
>pade-foot  toad,  326. 


INDEX. 


485 


Sparrow,  English,  5,  194. 
Spawn-eater,  413. 
Spelerpes  ruber,  344. 
Squalius  funduloides,  418. 
Squirrels,  19. 
Squirrel,  flying,  51,  179. 
Stacy,  Mahlon,  on  fishes  of  the  Dela- 
ware River,  363. 
Stokes,  Dr.  Alfred  C.,  on  food  of 

sunfishes,  380. 
Strix  pratincola,  221. 
Suckers,  422. 
Sunfishes,  367. 
Sunfish,  banded,  380. 

brass-belly,  372. 

common,  375. 

spotted,  382. 

Swallows,  hibernation  of,  169. 
Swallow,  bank,  161. 

barn,  173. 

cliff,  171. 
Swift,  chimney,  134,  174. 

Tamias  striatus,  58. 
Terrier,  skye,  39. 

Thomas,  Gabriel,  on  flying-squirrels, 
56. 

on  bull-frogs,  322. 

on  tree-toads,  327. 

on  rock-fish,  363. 

Thompson,  Zadoc,  "  History  of  Ver- 
mont," 391. 
Thryothorus  Bewickii,  149. 

Ludovicianus,  6,  153. 
Toad,  common  hop,  337. 
Tortoise,  box,  250. 
Tree-toads,  326. 
Trenton,  New  Jersey,  313,  364. 


Triton,  spotted,  340. 
Troglodytes  sedon,  192. 
Tropidonotus  sipedon,  291. 
Turkey-buzzard,  24. 
Turnbull,  Dr.  William,  on  birds  of 
East  Pennsylvania  and  New 
Jersey,  236. 
Turtles,  250,*  276,  281. 

voice  of,  259. 
Turtle,  Blanding's,  253. 

Muhlenberg's,  255. 

mud,  265. 

musk,  267. 

painted,  257. 

red-bellied,  264. 

rough-backed,  253. 

mapping,  269,  276. 

spotted,.  261. 

Ursus  Americanus,  17,  18. 

"  Vermont,  History  of,"  quoted,  391. 

Wallace,  A.   R.,  on  philosophy   of 
birds'  nests,  124,  129. 

Wallerius,   Dr.,   on    hibernation   of 
swallows,  159. 

Watson's  Creek,  202,  384,  385,  413, 
426. 

Weasels,  27. 

Weed,  Jamestown,  6. 

Winter,  a  walk  in,  209. 

Wolf,  17. 

Wren,  Bewick's,  149. 
Carolina,  6,  153. 
house,  192. 

Zapus  Hudsonius,  31. 


THE  END. 


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D.  APPLETON  &   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS, 

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TEXT-BOOK     OF    SYSTEMATIC     MINERALOGY.        By 

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date." — trom  Preface. 

THE    MODERN    APPLICATIONS    OF    ELECTRICITY. 

By  E.  HOSPITALIER.      New  edition,  revised,  with   many  Additions. 
Translated  by  Julius  Maier,  Ph.  D. 
Vol.    I.  ELECTRIC  GENERATORS,  ELECTRIC  LIGHT. 

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MAXIMS  OF  PUBLIC  HEALTH. 

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"  The  appearance  of  this  hand-book  is  most  timely.  There  is  a  vague  appre- 
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of  the  country.  It  is  invaluable  for  instant  reference  in  an  emergency.  J)r. 
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"  Dr.  Wight  is  to  be  commended,  not  only  for  reiterating  the  dangers  to  which 
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because  he  has  clothed  his  thoughts  in  virile,  understandable  English.  He  has 
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—scarlet  fever,  typhoid  fever,  diphtheria  and  the  like— but  has  a  new  idea  con- 
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read  his  thoughts  ;  they  can  not  be  other  than  a  great  boon  to  the  unprofessional 
man,  for  whom  they  are  specially  written.1"— Hartford  Evening  2'ost. 

"The  intelligent  householder  who  has  no  time,  perhaps  no  inclination,  for 
systematic  studies,  may  read  these'maxims  with  a  quick  comprehension  of  their 
import,  and  find  hints  that  will  save  himself  and  his  loved  ones  unspeakable 
pain  and  sorrow.  To  say  nothing  of  his  success  as  a  medical  practitioner,  Dr. 
Wight  gives  in  this  valuable  book  the  result  of  six  years  of  personal  experience 
insanitary  administration.  We  heartily  commend  it  to  the  careful  reading  of 
all  who  would  be  prepared  to  ward  off  any  epidemic  that  should  make  its  appear- 
ance in  their  midst,  or  who  would  have  everything  about  their  premises  of  the 
most  healthful  character."—  Boston  Home  Journal. 

"  Dr.  Wight's  heart  is  at  his  pen's  point  in  every  page  of  his  book,  and  he  is 
as  exhaustive  upon  every  phase  of  human  life  and  suffering  and  exposure  and 
economy,  as  he  is  on  the  school." — St.  Paul  Dispatch. 

"A  little  volume  which  condenses  within  less  than  two  hundred  pages  a  vast 
amount  of  sanitary  science  .  .  .  The  book  is  evidently  the  result  of  long  and 
close  attention  to  the  subject,  and,  being  designed  for  the  general  reader,  it  gives 
the  results  of  investigation  and  experiment  without  burdening  them  with  de- 
tails of  the  processes  by  which  they  have  been  reached.  It  is  a  book  which  should 
be  studied  by  all."—  Chicago  Daily  Times. 

"  This  is  a  timely  and  most  instructive  as  well  as  interesting  series  of  para- 
graphs on  sanitary  subjects,  which  ought  to  be  read  in  every  household  and 
board  of  health." — Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 

"He  plunges  into  the  subject  of  city  drainage,  handling  the  topic  with  euch 
skill  and  precision  as  prove  him  a  past  master  of  hygienic  science.  Every 
possible  phase  of  house,  stable,  and  city  drainage,  and  sanitation,  is  explained 
and  discussed."— Detroit  Evening  News. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers  ;  or  will  be  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt 
of  price. 

New  York:  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  Publishers,  1,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


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